Spitfire
by yarnsyarns
Summary: The Fifth Blight has descended upon Ferelden. Conscripted against her will, Areth Tabris finds herself staring down a bigger foe than any she had ever encountered in the Alienage. As she gathers a small ragtag band of warriors, she realizes their fight will not be an easy one. On the bright side, easy always seemed dull to her. Eventual F!Tabris/Leliana. Rated M.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, guys. First fanfic in forever and a half. I'm going bananas waiting for DA3. This is my method of coping. I've got plans for this to be pretty long, but for now we'll see where it goes! :)**

* * *

The first punch the guard landed on her barely made her blink.

The second punch the guard landed on her only made her angry.

The third punch the guard landed on her sent her sprawling back onto the floor with a nauseating crunch and veritable waterfall gushing from her nose.

Areth Tabris realized, with no small amount of disquiet, that she had been thoroughly walloped by a miserable shem who hadn't even had his weapon drawn. Her mother must have been rolling in her grave, if not already climbing out of it to give Areth a swift clip on the ears for letting _that_ happen. Snorting the blood out of her nostrils, she heard it spatter against the cobblestones beneath her. Springing to her feet, her hand already gripped the hilt of the dirk she had scrounged from one of the many unattended armories in the palace.

"You might have been a bit too occupied to notice, cousin, but I got him." chimed a voice a few paces behind her. Areth stumbled as she realized she was a bit more unsteady on her feet than she thought previously. She looked around haplessly, only to find her the guard spread-eagle on the ground. Sporting a crossbow bolt square in his fat gut and chest, to boot.

"Thanks, Soris." Areth mumbled, giving a sheepish smile at her cousin. "D'you think we could keep this little incident to ourselves? I'd rather no one back home find out I got my bell rung by a rather hefty shemlen."

Her cousin cocked an eyebrow, already fitting another bolt to his crossbow, hands shaking almost imperceptibly. "I wouldn't dare breathe a word to anyone. Your new nose will speak for itself."

Areth gingerly ran a finger along the bridge of her nose and winced. It was busted up worse than she had thought, and crooked now. Fucking great. Hissing out a sigh, Areth jerked her head towards a door that presumably lead to more endless hallways. With the luck the elves had thus far, said halls were probably awash with guards.

"Shemlen are better at filling up my shit list than anything else, I swear." Areth growled, silently treading towards the door once she had scanned the hallway. "The poor fucking sods won't even be recognizable by the time I'm done with them."

For his part, Soris only grunted. As she quietly slipped through the hallway, Areth couldn't help but shake the feeling that they were going to be too late. They'd managed good time through Arl of Denerim's estate; especially given they had to slice their way through armored guards to get anywhere at all. But that pig, _that fuckin__g pig_, Vaughn seemed entirely too eager for her cousin to remain unscathed this long.

_"Don't think about it, we just have to find Shianni."_ Areth thought, a scowl darkening her features. _"And once I find that bastard, I'll kill him. It's mercy he won't deserve, but the only good shem is a dead shem."_

A faint clink of armor around the corner snapped her out of her reverie. She gestured at Soris to stop, she heard him pad to a stop close behind her. Elves, on the whole, had hearing superior to any other race, and Areth prided herself on having excellent hearing, even among elves. Given her ears were substantially larger than most, she could hear quite a bit more than the average elf. In the heavy quiet that fell upon the entire hallway, she could hear everything. She heard the soft creak of Soris's finger on the trigger of his crossbow. She heard the raucous laughter of guards in the mess hall, too drunk to pay heed to the massacre going on within their own walls. She heard the breath of the guard around the corner. It wooshed in and out of his lungs with unsuspecting ease. He was drawing nearer, by the clop of his boots on the floor. Areth gritted her teeth, and she felt the coppery taste of the blood from her nose slither across her lips.

He hadn't even had the time to register his shock when he died. Areth's blade passed cleanly through his windpipe, and the breath that had come so freely to him earlier now whistled out of the slim hole in his neck. She managed to catch on to the front of his breastplate as he began to crumple, and with a little help from Soris, he was placed gently, soundlessly on the ground. Sparing a moment to glare at the corpse disdainfully, she looked up at her cousin.

"I think that makes up for my little mishap earlier, yeah?" She whispered with a wan smile, tapping softly on the tip of her bent nose. Soris smiled briefly, but his eyes were entirely unreadable.

"I suppose it does."

Turning the corner, dirk drawn, Areth scanned the hall, wide eyes sweeping for any indication that they had been noticed. Finding nothing but a door a few meters away, she skirted along the wall as she made for it, Soris swiftly on her trail. Underneath her roiling rage and calculated fury, Areth felt a glimmer of pride in her cousin. Where Areth tended to prove she had a knack for violence, he absolutely reviled it. But, thanks to him, more than a few shem would have crossbow bolts wrenched out of their chests when this was all over. Although the entire situation was fucked halfway up shit creek, to put it eloquently, Soris was keeping a remarkable handle on himself. Especially considering he was perhaps the most nervous and law-abiding elf in the Alienage at times.

Rather suddenly, Areth remembered the first time she and her cousins ever managed to steal anything. They had lifted an exotic fruit from one of the stalls in the Denerim market place. While she, already having a particular proclivity for trouble, grinned like the cat who ate the canary the entire way home, Soris had sobbed pitifully a few steps behind her at all times. Shianni had been there that day too, a silly grin planted on her thin face, apparently dumbfounded and delighted that they had gotten away with it at all as she swaggered along the crowded streets in-step with Areth.

The memory of her older cousin sent a pang of both fondness and sickening dread through the pit of her stomach, and Areth picked up the pace, trying to determine which door would lead to her inevitable massacre of Vaughn and his gaggle of henchmen. She could envision the young noble's face in her mind, pasty and pockmarked, sneering with smarmy entitlement. She predicted it would be getting slashed to ribbons in the near future, and the thought sent her heart skittering with anticipation. She'd finally have a reason to make one of these smug shem squeal like the pig he was, she-

"I think I hear something." Soris's voice was hushed and urgent as he grasped Areth's collar, effectively halting her. She stood stock still, the only movement the minute swivel and twitch of her ears as she strained to hear what Soris did. When she did, she felt her body flush cold with adrenaline, and grit her teeth in frustration that she hadn't heard it earlier. Guttural grunts and the creak of a bedframe weren't hard to mistake, nor were they subtle. Her small frame seized up in horror.

"What is it?" Soris practically pleaded, gripping his cousin's arm. Areth felt her lips curl over her teeth, and the wave of adrenaline that crashed over her made her head spin. She couldn't bring herself to answer Soris, and she tore off towards the door where the sounds were coming from.

"Areth, wait!" Soris hissed, trying to catch up with her. Areth was long past the point of no return, however. With a white-knuckled grip on the thick brass handle, she swung the heavy door open with the ease only granted to someone fueled by blinding fury. With an echoing slam, Areth lunged into the room and sized up her prey. Two were shit drunk, one had just woken up with a start. None were armed. Easy pickings, she noted with a sneer that soon faltered into a snarl. The last man, Vaughn Urien himself, was in the process of buttoning his trousers, red faced and breathing heavily. She couldn't bring herself to look at the whimpering form that was Shianni. Not until he was long gone.

"Couldn't wait your turn?" Vaughn drawled. "Had I known you were so eager to join our party, I would have brought you along with this one." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the bed.

Areth spat at his feet as she heard a crossbow bolt find flesh behind her. Then another. If Vaughn cared at all that two of his friends were dead, he gave no indication. The sound of a knife being unsheathed behind her indicated Soris was getting ready for a scrap. The fact that none of Vaughn's henchmen had not tried to attack her created a squirming weight in the pit of her stomach. He knew the elves were coming, and he didn't want her to get hurt. Not by _them_, at least. She carefully controlled the niggling terror from creeping onto her face as she realized the caliber of psychopath she was in a standoff with.

"Forgive my intrusion." Areth said, failing miserably at keeping her tone cool. "I guess I just got bored, hogtied in that room all by myself. If you'll forgive my saying so, that isn't a very host-ly thing to do, you bloated piece of shit."

Vaughn licked his lips, and the very motion sent shivers down her spine. He strolled leisurely towards her, a bemused expression on his pointed features.

"Then I apologize. I never meant to be anything but hospitable. Especially to a guest I hold in such high…" Vaughn seemed to be mulling something over, grazing a finger against her ear. "Esteem."

Areth felt bile rise in her throat. She slapped his hand away and spat square in the noble's washed-out face. Vaughn wiped the blood and spittle off his face, clearly attempting to maintain his own veneer of calm. Smiling disingenuously at her, he threw his arms wide.

"Is this all about the wedding? I'm sorry I interrupted, but all you little knife-eared women look so _good_ dressed up. How could I resist?" He rasped, his eyes suddenly darkening. "After all, you little things are all my property."

Areth's fists were clenched so hard, she felt her nails draw blood from her palms. Vaughn made a speculative noise from the back of his throat.

"You know, I'm getting a little tired of you playing coy." He said, smiling in a way that made Areth queasy. Before she could register what was happening, Vaughn backhanded her across the face, nearly knocking her out as her head smacked the cobblestone floor with enough force to make her world go dark for a few seconds. In her brief daze, she realized how much being blind would suck. As she came to, she fumbled for the blade at her hip.

"Now, now, pet." Vaughn cooed from above her. "I'm just trying to have a little_ fun_."

He punctuated the last word with a swift kick to her gut. Yelping, Areth reflexively curled into a ball on the ground. Laughing, Vaughn gripped Areth by her hair and yanked her head off the ground. His breath fell heavily on her ear, hot and rancid.

"Why won't you give me a kiss?" He snarled, twisting her neck violently so that she was facing him. Mustering every inch of strength in her petite frame, Areth brought her fist up between the two of them to land an uppercut neatly on his chin. She heard a cracking sound that she assumed could only have been his teeth and drew her dirk. She heard someone drop to the ground behind her, with a grunt that definitely did not belong to Soris. Areth laughed in a brief spell of manic exaltation as she plunged the blade deep into the junction of the noble's neck and shoulder. The look of shock on the man's face was mingled with disgust and hatred as he coughed and sputtered, his eyes rapidly growing dim.

"You knife-eared _whore_." He wheezed, thin trails of blood streaming from his lips. "Your people... will burn for this." Vaughn managed to sneer smugly at her.

Areth yanked the man closer to her by the blade in his neck, earning an undignified whimper from the dying man. "My people _have_ been burning. But, the thing is, we can only burn for so long before we explode, shem. It's a god damn powder keg that you useless ingrates have been sitting on without even realizing it."

Vaughn's lip curled as he began to respond, but was curtailed by a swift twist of the blade in his neck. With a thump, the man crumpled to the floor with eyes wide open. Areth stared at the man impassively.

"Cousin." Came Soris's voice from behind her, jarring the heavy silence that blanketed the room. She turned to look at him with a relieved sigh. Nodding with a brief smile, he then pointed to the woman on the bed. Shianni's eyes were fixed on Vaughn's corpse, and she had a strange expression on her face. Areth edged toward her cousin gingerly.

"Shianni..." Areth started quietly. The redheaded elf suddenly met her gaze, her eyes swimming with tears. Areth felt a nervous lump form in her throat. "I am so _so_ sorry we didn't get here sooner." Her hands shook as she sheathed her dagger and knelt down in front of the bed. "If... If I could, I'd bring him back to life just to kill him again."

Shianni shook her head, reaching out to rest her hand on Areth's shoulder. "No, Areth. Thank you." Tears began to slow freely from the older woman. Taking that as a sign that it was okay to move closer, Areth wrapped her arms around her cousin. Making eye contact with Soris, she mouthed _"let's fucking go" _and gently shifted Shianni into Soris's arms. Soris sighed and cradled his sister close to his chest as quiet sobs wracked her entire body.

"We're still on the ground floor." He explained quietly, looking towards a grimy window. "Looks relatively clear, but we're going to have to make a break for it anyway. Hopefully nobody spots us."

She nodded and opened the window for Soris. He slipped out and quietly ran across the grounds, making it look easy even carrying a fully grown woman. Following her cousin, she paused as she straddled the window frame. Casting one last look around the room, she knew she was right. Things were ready to explode.

She just wasn't sure she wouldn't explode with it.

* * *

Areth wished she could say it felt better to be home, after all that.

It did not.

The Alienage was silent as the grave when they had returned. Nobody wanted to be around when the guards inevitably showed. Areth could hardly blame them, even if she wished they'd shown a bit more of a backbone.

She was more than likely to have hers removed by nightfall. Perhaps literally.

Upon their arrival home, Areth and Soris had left Shianni in the care of Areth's father, Cyrion. Then, with churning trepidation, they sought out the Elder, Valendrian. He had practically paced a rut in the ground around the Vhenadahl, and upon seeing them, promptly cuffed them both around the head.

"Why?!" Soris yelped, flinching more than usual at the rebuke. Valendrian instead leveled his eyes on Areth.

"You're lucky your mother isn't here." He glowered. "I'm not sure you would have ever recovered from the thumping she would give you right now, girl."

Areth gritted her teeth and forced herself to glare at her bloodstained boots.

"Yes, Elder."

Valendrian continued to watch the two young elves as he rocked back onto his heels. Then, tilting his head back, he stared at the branches of the Vhenadahl, the last rays of sun setting a pink hue to his weathered face. Somehow, it made the whole situation seem less terrifying to Areth.

"How did everything manage to go so wrong, so fast?" He finally sighed. Areth chewed at her lip.

"Were you ever under the illusion that Soris and I getting married on the same day would end well?" She quipped, only halfway in jest. Valendrian laughed softly at that, and she earned a small smirk from Soris.

"A valid point, young one." Valendrian chuckled. His eyes were more tired than Areth had ever seen them. Suddenly, his mouth set into a hard line. "You both did the right thing today."

Areth was surprised at the admission. She opened her mouth to speak, but Valendrian held up a weathered hand to stop her.

"Insufferably foolish, and incredibly naïve, but right." He continued. "Whatever consequences arise from this, know that there was nothing else you rightfully should have done."

"Talk about a fuckin' rock and a hard place." Areth mumbled, not meeting Valendrian's eyes.

"_Language_, Areth." The old elf scolded with well-practiced weariness.

"We'll go quietly when the guards come, Elder." Soris suddenly whispered, staring pointedly ahead at nothing in particular. He looked hopeless and defeated, an entirely different elf than the one she recognized as her cousin. It Areth bristle. There was no way the humans were going to break both of her cousins in one day. She turned to the elder, her voice choked by anger.

"No." She growled, steeling herself. "They won't have the satisfaction of taking two of us. If they're going to take anyone, let it be me."

Soris looked equal parts stunned and indignant. "Cousin, you_ know_ I won't let that happen."

Areth rolled her eyes. "Someone needs to stay with Shianni. Someone needs to protect her, at least until she's feeling up to smashing bottles over people's heads again. And, last I recall, you still had a blushing bride waiting for you at my dad's house."

Her own betrothed, Nelaros, hadn't made it through the fighting. He was dead before Soris had even managed to free her. It was a shame, Areth supposed, but she couldn't bring herself to grieve over it.

It wasn't that Nelaros wasn't a good man. He was very kind, and as good looking as they come, if not a little bit boring. In the Alienage, it was the ideal situation. Invariably, today's events mucked that up for good measure. If she wasn't facing an inevitably gruesome death and the crushing guilt of being completely inept at rescuing people in time, she would have welcomed the intervention. A less fatal and violent one, but a tiny part of her was relieved. She fiercely dreaded quiet, uneventful life of growing old in the Alienage that had been ahead of her. As things were, she just felt like throwing up onto her boots.

"Besides," She continued before Soris could interrupt. "can you imagine the looks on the guardsmen's faces when they see one elf girl taking responsibility for all that?"

Soris laughed nervously. "The funny thing is, you probably could have, all on your own." He paused, carefully studying his cousin's face. "You know, the busted nose kinda makes you look good. In a rather intimidating way."

Areth grasped the crossbow strap from Soris's shoulder and hefted it over hers. No point in being noble and taking the blame if Soris was still holding a murder weapon. She smirked.

"If I make it past tonight, I'm sure I'll have all the other inmates cowering in fear."

Soris's face fell. "Don't say things like that. You're going to be just fine." His fists clenched at his sides. "I don't know how, but this isn't the end for you, cousin. It _can't_ be."

Valendrian, who had remained silent for this stretch of the conversation, finally spoke up with a sigh.

"Wait here, you two."

With that, he strode off across the square towards his own house, walking faster than Areth could ever remember. The bustle in his step was something she recalled fondly from her childhood, when Valendrian was still just their neighbor and not the Elder.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Areth called sardonically, leaning back against the Vhenadahl. "Wonder what that's all about."

Soris's brow furrowed. "I don't know, but I've never known the Elder to not have a plan. However half-baked it might be."

Areth clucked her tongue. "Half-baked won't cut it today, I'm afraid. Half-baked is what landed us here."

Soris nodded, his expression unreadable. "Only fully-baked plans from here on out, then."

They lapsed into silence then, both losing themselves in their own little world. Areth's eyes swept around the Alienage, trying to absorb every detail she hadn't before, like the way the wind whistled as it passed between the squat shanties the elves lived in. Or the way spongy moss grew from between the cobblestones in the square. Or the sweet smell of the late summer leaves of the Vhenadahl, as they rattled on their branches. Areth remembered scampering around this tree whenever she and her cousins were younger. She remembered the way the sun set, casting everything in a orange and pink hue, and their hovel looked stunning. At least for those few minutes every day. After the sun set, she could remember hearing her mother's voice among all the other parents calling for their children to come home to dinner.

Areth twirled the dirk in her hands a few times. Its weight was comfortable.

When the other kids were all eating their meager dinners with their families, Areth had something else to do. She and her mother were always in the back alley behind their home, every evening, practicing with blades. Sparring. Learning disarming techniques. Areth's mother, Adaia, had been a proud and shrewd warrior. Areth could recall the sound of her raspy voice berating her when her form was a mess, and praising her when she actually managed a technique right. She could almost smell her mother's meticulously-oiled leather boots, and the earthy scent of her hair. A quiet sadness settled on her shoulders. She never had the chance to thank her mother for what she taught her, and it had saved her life more than a few times.

Ah, well, she'd get the chance soon enough.

Movement across the square caught her eye. Expecting it to be Valendrian returning with whatever plan he'd concocted, Areth's blood went cold. The guard-captain of Denerim was crossing the courtyard with a full company of soldiers. Areth glanced at her cousin in a manner he was very familiar with. It was her trademark _"you shut up, I'__ll do the talking"_ look. Clearing her throat, she stood up straight, yet kept a loose stance, and faced the guard-captain.

"What's this all about, then?" Areth said, keeping her tone light and casual. The trick with the guards was to not let them know you were afraid. Otherwise, it was like a pack of wolves cornering a frightened rabbit. The guard-captain stared at her in contempt.

"You know _damn well_ what this is about, elf." He snapped. "The Arl of Denerim's son is dead and his personal guard are all shredded to sodding ribbons or human pincushions. I need names, and I need them_ now_."

Areth allowed her brow to furrow. "How do you know who you're looking for is here? Or if they're an elf at all?"

The guard-captain sized her up, puffing his chest out. Areth pursed her lips.

"Several witnesses spotted an elf lass with a crooked nose making a break for the east wall, covered in blood. I'd say that's an apt description of you, though you've had the good sense to at least clean up most of the blood." He replied, letting his hand come to rest on the hilt of his blade. "Now, who helped you?"

Areth put her hands up. "Well, your sleuthing skills certainly are sharp, but I've no accomplices. Just little old me."

The guard-captain threw a disparaging glance at Soris. "You're sure about that, are you?"

Areth flared her nostrils, her expression hardening suddenly. "Care to find out, guard-captain?"

"That won't be necessary, you've done enough as it is." He sniffed, gesturing to one of his men, who stepped forward with a set of manacles. "I do admire the courage you must possess to step forward and take responsibility for this, but I do not envy your fate."

Areth offered her wrists, taking deep breaths, trying to quell the wave of panic that was beginning to bubble from inside. To no avail. Beads of sweat were forming at her temples, and her hands were growing clammy. There was no justice in this. She would die, without so much as an acknowledgment that what she had done was to stop her own _victim's_ body count from rising. Entirely because her ears were pointed.

Areth wondered, briefly, if it was better for an elf to die having done something than live having done nothing but roll over and accept their lot. It certainly didn't feel better. She screwed her eyes shut and waited for the weight of the manacles to be placed upon her wrists.

It never came.

"A word, guard-captain." Said an unfamiliar voice. It was deep, and somehow comforting, but held a focused poise in its enunciation. Opening her eyes, Areth examined this strange man with interest. His tanned skin and obsidian hair spoke of Rivaini descent, and he wore two handsome swords strapped to his back. As he guided the guard-captain a few meters away to converse in hushed tones, Areth noticed how he towered over the plate-clad man, in a rather imposing way. Whatever this shem wanted, his stature alone was probably enough to get it for him. Areth looked behind her to Valendrian quizzically.

"An old friend." The Elder informed her. That didn't exactly set her at ease, but Areth nodded slowly anyway, watching the stranger.

"Absolutely not, do you have any idea the riot we'll have on our hands?!" The guard-captain's voice had wheedled to the pitch and volume of a man who had already been defeated, despite his protests. The dark shem continued to speak in hushed, and what Areth assumed were probably placating, tones. She noted with some interest that he used his hands a lot when he talked. Per her experience, people who did that were either rather interesting or trying to make themselves seem rather interesting.

It was at that moment the guard-captain stalked away, gesturing angrily at his men to move out. Areth watched them go, mouth agape. In what was probably the least grateful moment of her life, she whirled to the strange man, jaw still slack, and pointed at the retreating guards.

"How'dya manage that?!"

The man regarded her with a raised brow. Before he could speak, Valendrian cleared his throat.

"Areth, this is Duncan, commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden."

Her agape mouth formed an "O", then she shook her head and managed a smile.

"Thanks, then. I guess." She said, attempting to sound more sincere than she was. As desperately as she had been hoping she wouldn't be tortured and left for dead, she didn't really need a shem treating her like a charity case either. From what she heard, the Wardens were notorious do-gooders. Duncan watched her with a faint smile.

"A pleasure." Duncan said mildly, turning his gaze to Valendrian expectantly. Valendrian pursed his lips and motioned for Soris to leave. Areth nodded at her cousin, which was all he needed to bustle back to her house, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. Areth folded her arms.

"Duncan came here for a reason, my child." Valendrian began. "You see, with a new Blight, the Wardens are in need of some new recruits."

Areth nodded. "Well that's good. Can't fight a Blight without a few Wardens, so I've been told." She began to turn on her heel to follow Soris. "Best of luck with that!"

A firm hand on her elbow yanked her unceremoniously back. She noted with a tickle of irritation that Duncan seemed mildly amused with her.

"He found a recruit, Areth." Valendrian said sternly. It was as if she was nine years old again. Areth nodded, her eyebrows raised.

"Good for him, then."

Duncan spoke up, his voice gentle and authoritative. "You show a lot of promise, Areth. A lot of the same promise I saw in your mother."

Areth's ears visibly perked up at that. "You knew my mother?"

Valendrian sighed. "I'm sorry, Duncan. For all her aptitude with sharp objects, you sometimes have to speak slowly to this one."

Duncan chuckled. "I did. Adaia was a fine warrior. I see those talents did not go to waste." Setting his mouth into a thin line, he continued. "I am under the impression that you possess significant combat skill and apparently enough determination to dispatch a score of men singlehandedly."

Areth shrugged. "Soris helped plenty, and I-"She cut off when Duncan raised his hand.

"I have evaluated your abilities and surmised that they would aid the Wardens greatly in combating the Blight." He said in a business-like tone. Areth let out a low whistle, rocking back onto her heels.

"Wow. I'm flattered, I am." She said, nodding congenially. "_But_ I'm afraid I'll have to pass. I do appreciate that, though."

Duncan's eyes suddenly chilled, Areth's spine along with them.

"You really do not have much of a choice, Areth. I invoked the Writ of Conscription when I was speaking with Guard-Captain MacMahon." Duncan's voice was unwavering. "During a Blight, the Wardens possess the right to enlist anyone they see fit in service. The enlisted do not have a choice in the matter, I'm afraid."

Areth's ears pinned back to her head, on pure primal instinct. She looked to Valendrian, who nodded solemnly.

"It is the only option you have, my child. Your fate was sealed the moment your blade spilled human blood."

Suddenly, Areth was taken by a powerful urge to retch. Duncan's face was unreadable, but she saw a glint of something in his eye. It almost seemed apologetic. For a long few moments, Areth was speechless. How fickle a thing was freedom that she had woken up with it in the morning and before sundown, she was powerless to the whims of others?

Her eyes swept around the Alienage, its walls impassive and towering on all sides. Perhaps freedom had been an illusion the whole time, after all. The thought only made the bile churn harder in her stomach. Finding her voice, she looked down at the familiar moss that poked through the cobblestones, brushing her boot against it.

"When… are we leaving?"

Duncan's tone was immobile as the earth itself.

"Immediately."

* * *

**Annnnnnd there's chapter one! Any thoughts, reviews, or constructive criticism would be wildly appreciated. See you guys for chapter two!**


	2. Chapter 2

**So first off, a big thanks to anyone who reviewed/followed/favorited/looked at this at all. I've been on a major hiatus from any writing at all, so your acknowledgment just adds gasoline to my burning urge to get shit done. Hope you enjoy chapter two! **

* * *

After two weeks of traveling, Areth and Duncan were still on the road. Duncan had assured her they weren't very far from Ostagar, but he also said that three days ago. Areth wasn't accustomed to walking very far at all, and her calves screamed in protest with every step she took, and the muscles in her back had long since congealed to form one huge knot. She hadn't even known Ferelden was big enough to walk through for two weeks. According to Duncan, their trip would barely constitute a fraction of the country's size. Areth was pretty sure he was bullshitting her with that one, but she feigned surprise anyway. Given Duncan was both her commander and the person she was guaranteed to be stuck with for a while, she tried her best to play nice with him. During their first night on the road, Areth had been sorely tempted to slit his throat while he slept and make a break for it, but it was an idle notion she had soon abandoned. She didn't need to be responsible for the deaths of two persons of importance in one day. That was just plain excessive. And, to be fair, Duncan wasn't the absolute _worst_ shem she'd been around. He hadn't tried talking to her, beyond a few lukewarm attempts at conversation. He didn't ask her to clean anything or whatever else shemlen thought elves were supposed to do. He seemed to acknowledge that forcibly removing someone from their home and family didn't lend too well to a healthy friendship. Areth was grateful, somewhat, that he had saved her life, but it gratitude was tinged with a fierce resentment. She didn't really know what to make of Duncan, and it set her on edge. She hadn't even tried to bring up her mother yet. The Warden-Commander seemed the type who favored cryptic answers, which Areth knew would bring her to a tooth-grinding fury. Her tactic would be to wait it out, and hopefully, resolution would come.

She stretched her neck to the side and smiled when she felt a satisfying crack. Duncan kept his pace a few strides ahead of her. He was in pretty good shape for his age, she noted. Although Ferelden would be in sorry shape if it's Warden-Commander couldn't outpace a five-foot tall elf. The weather had been in their favor as well. Autumn's first chill nipped at her ears and nose, and the wind was rather brisk. Once they got to Ostagar, Areth would have to see about finding a suitable coat. Now that she was in cahoots with a widely-respected militia, she might be able to acquire one legally. She had left her sorry, old threadbare coat at home. Partially because she didn't want to be the laughingstock of the Wardens, and partially because Shianni had looked so heartbroken when she lifted it off the hook. Areth rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

_Shianni_.

Of all the goodbyes Areth had rushed through before leaving the Alienage, Shianni's was the hardest. She had just barely woken up when Areth made it home to share her plans. Still in a daze, she clung to Areth desperately, begging her to stay. Her pleas were so heartbroken that Areth was tempted to comply. She knew she couldn't, and it killed her. However resilient Shianni was, Areth wasn't certain she would recover at all from what had happened, despite Soris's assurances that he wouldn't let anything happen to her. She'd seen this happen time and time again in the Alienage, and though there were those who seemed to have entirely come back to themselves, they all shared this glint in their eyes. It was the look of a wild creature apt to strike at the slightest provocation. Shianni was volatile enough before that disaster, and she was not entirely sure she would recognize her cousin when she saw her again. _If_ she saw her again.

Her stomach churned as she contemplated Duncan's words as they left the Alienage.

"_You should know, the Grey Wardens go where our duty compels us. There is a chance we may have no need to return to Denerim, at all, for a very long while."_

Her father, Cyrion, was no spring chicken. A very long while didn't seem like it would be possible for him, especially given the squalor in the Alienage. Poor conditions and rampant disease didn't bode well for her father's longevity. As they had left, Areth found herself praying to a Maker she didn't believe in. For what, she wasn't sure. Maybe just that things wouldn't end up quite so bad as she was anticipating they would. She wasn't sure how praying to the Maker worked, really. Did she need to ask for something very specific? Did he go by Mister Maker? Did she have to make a blood sacrifice? Areth sighed. Maybe she should have paid attention when her father forced her to go to the Chantry with him on the service days instead of tearing pages out of the Chant books to throw at Soris. She kicked a pebble from the trail off into the tall grass at the side of the road.

"This place has got to be around here somewhere. We're going to fall right off the sodding world if we keep going."

Duncan slowed his pace, casting a glance over his shoulder.

"We'll be there well before nightfall." Duncan said mildly, cocking an eyebrow at his charge.

Areth hefted her pack higher up on her shoulders.

"A hot dinner waiting for us, I'd hope." She grumbled. Duncan smiled at that.

"It would be generous to call our rations _dinner_, but it will be plenty hot." His pace slowed so that he was now in-step with Areth. "The cooks seem to have concocted the notion that bringing gruel to a boil somehow makes up for the fact that it's, well, gruel."

Areth sniffed, rubbing at her chapped nose.

"It's probably still better than rat and turnip stem soup. It's an Alienage delicacy."

Duncan heaved a sigh. "The plight of the elves is rather dire, it appears."

"You could say that." She replied mirthlessly. "What gave it away? Was it the utter apathy towards the kidnapping, rape, and murder of elven women, or was it the rat soup?"

"I meant no offense." Duncan said, appearing legitimately taken aback.

Areth rolled her eyes and they lapsed into silence. Shemlen were woefully clueless to the plight of the elves, even the ones who seemed sympathetic. It was the sympathetic ones that got under Areth's skin more than those who were outright cruel, honestly. More often than not, those who tried to empathize came off a bit condescending and more than a touch ignorant. Areth was used to condescension and ignorance, but it chafed her when she saw it coming from someone who thought they were a _"friend"_ of the elves. Yes, the situation in the Alienage _was_ rather dire. She didn't know about any of the others outside of Denerim, but where she was from was an utter pit. Duncan had seen how fucking "dire" it was with his own eyes, and her hackles instinctively rose when he attempted using _that_ as a conversation starter. Perhaps among other humans it would be a fine topic, and afterwards they could all pat themselves on the back for sparing a thought for the destitute and go back to whatever fucking ridiculous shemlen thing they were doing. Sipping wine made out of actual grapes or something.

"Duncan." She said, her raspy voice cutting through the awkward silence that had fallen. The older human turned to her, looking intrigued if not a little exasperated. He didn't say anything, so Areth took that as a cue to continue.

"You said you knew my mother."

Duncan nodded. "I did."

"Tell me, did she ever seem too keen on the notion of humans sharing any kind of opinion on the _'plight of the elves'_?"

Duncan began to speak, then paused, appearing to be thinking carefully. "No, I suppose she didn't. I seem to recall her telling me, rather adamantly, to keep my monstrous beak out of things I couldn't possibly understand." He smiled dryly, looking at the place where the land met the sky. "Although her vocabulary was decidedly more colorful."

"I think it would be mutually beneficial for us if you understood that I inherited more than just an affinity for slicing things from my mother." Areth said, keeping her tone breezy, but giving Duncan a pointed look. To her surprise, Duncan's eyes were dancing, and a slight smile continued to play at his lips.

"Very well, then. Let's keep on. We really are almost there." He said, picking his pace back up.

Areth's brow furrowed as she tried to keep up. She always had a hard time believing shemlen were rationally coherent enough to have responsibility over anything. Ostagar would probably be a hell of a sight to see.

* * *

It was, but for vastly more impressive reasons than Areth anticipated. The crumbling fortress of Ostagar was a fossil left behind by the Tevinter Imperium, and it practically hung off a sheer cliff that overlooked the Korcari Wilds. The view wasn't stunning- the Wilds looked like somewhere Areth wanted to pointedly avoid, even from a sizeable distance. It was the sheer scale of it all that amazed her. She could see miles in any direction with just a turn of her head! She knew Denerim was at least twice the size of the ruins, but with all the buildings looming overhead, each alley felt like world within itself, and that made the whole city seem small. But this, this was something entirely new. Even across the bridge from the bulk of the activity, the sounds were overwhelming. Areth could sense a headache waiting on the other side of that bridge.

"It's… big." She remarked, rocking back and forth on her feet. Duncan nodded.

"By conventional standards, yes. I suppose it is quite large."

Areth shifted from foot to foot.

"So what am I supposed to do here?" She asked. Duncan looked ready to launch into what was probably a bombastic recitation of her new duties, when a blonde man clapped Duncan firmly on the shoulder from behind. Areth flinched. With all the new sights and sounds, she hadn't been paying attention to their immediate surroundings at all. She glared at the new human disdainfully. She had met the acquaintance of more humans in the past few weeks than she ever had in her life, and she was thus far not impressed. This fellow was doing nothing to break the mold. He was handsome enough by shemlen standards, youthful and rugged. He had flowing golden hair and it the way it framed his face was decidedly regal, but the laugh lines around his eyes made him look a bit too jolly to be anyone important. And his golden armor was absurd beyond words.

"Duncan!" He practically bellowed at the older Warden. "You finally made it back! Where did you go this time?"

Duncan cleared his throat. "Denerim, your majesty."

Areth's eyebrows shot up practically into her hairline. _This_. This was King Cailan. _The king_. She felt a laugh threatening to tear out of her throat, but she forced it down out of some small regard for propriety.

"Ah! My beloved hometown!" The king crowed, slapping Duncan's shoulder again. "And you found another recruit, yes? I take it this is she?"

Duncan hastily shot Areth a look not dissimilar to the one she would give Soris when she really needed him to shut up.

"You need not concern yourself with an introduction, your majesty, you have enough to plan for, I'm certain."

Cailan blinked at Duncan haplessly. "Nonsense, Duncan. We'll be shedding blood together."

Areth stepped back as the king moved closer to her. He was practically leaning over her, and she felt her slender ears pin back to her head for a moment.

"Hello, friend, might I know your name?" He inquired, halting his advance towards her. Areth gave an internal sigh of relief. From the corner of her eye, Areth noticed Duncan watching her, his face severe.

"Areth, your highness." She said politely, dipping her head in a miniature bow. Duncan's shoulders relaxed conspicuously.

And then, Areth gleefully decided propriety could shove it.

"If I may be so bold, I have an inquiry."

Duncan's shoulders tensed once again, but Cailan gave her an indulgent smile. "A curious mind is a valuable thing, don't you agree, Duncan?"

Duncan coughed and nodded stiffly. Cailan beamed at him before turning his dazzling smile back upon Areth. "What's on your mind?"

She folded her arms across her chest and cocked her head to the side.

"Who was the blind bastard who let you out in public in _that_?"

Areth swore she could see a vein about to burst on Duncan's temple. Good. This was mostly a message for him, anyway. He needed to understand that saving her life by forcing her into service with an army made to fight the vilest creatures on earth did not mean she was bubbling over with gratitude. She owed him no respect, and if she needed him to understand she would bow to no shemlen, not even a king. And if he didn't draw that conclusion, then it was worth it to see the look on his face, anyway.

And then Cailan was laughing. Not the controlled, mildly amused laugh she had gotten used to hearing from Duncan. A deep, belly laugh that made his preposterous armor clank as he guffawed, doubled over. Wiping a tear of mirth from his face, Cailan gave her that same brilliant smile.

"Finally someone _says_ it!"

Duncan looked beyond beside himself, while Areth regarded the king with a look of both wonder and the kind of look she would have afforded an overtly friendly, albeit filthy, stray dog. Cailan took a deep breath and thumped himself on the chest a few times, clearing his throat.

"I know this armor is bloody ridiculous. My advisor says it makes me look more authentic as a leader. Now, I know that's not true, I look a right sodding git. Trick is," Cailan paused, leaning in to stage whisper to Areth. "he's my father-in-law, too."

It was then that Areth noticed the radiating heat in her cheeks. She prided herself on her stinging barbs, and this was the first time anyone had _laughed_ at one. Cailan apparently noticed the flush of her cheeks, and softly placed his hand on her shoulder, nearly enveloping it. Areth swallowed thickly as she was reminded how much larger humans were, compared to elves.

"No hard feelings, my dear. I know I look a mighty sore sight. I'm sort of hoping the darkspawn will just laugh themselves to death."

Areth nodded, feeling a small smirk play on her lips as her blush began to subside. She didn't entirely loathe this particular shem, oddly enough. The king squeezed her shoulder once, before his hand dropped to the hilt of his sword.

"Speaking of!" He boomed, straightening and turning to Duncan, who looked thoroughly baffled by the entire exchange. "We must discuss strategy soon! Within the hour, I should say."

Duncan straightened his shoulders. "Of course, your majesty."

"I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to have the legendary Grey Wardens riding into battle with me." Cailan tapped a finger against his lips, thinking briefly. Areth supposed just about all of the kings thoughts were brief. "Although it may not be the battle of legendary proportions. I'm not even sure this is a true Blight."

Duncan's face darkened considerably, but Cailan didn't seem to notice. "What makes you say that, your majesty?"

"There has been no sign of the Archdemon, first of all. And the scouts report the number of darkspawn they've seen in the wilds don't add up to a fraction of what our records say a how large a Blight ought to be."

"Then why the giant camp out?" Areth spoke up. "If this threat is as minor as you say, then don't you think assembling an entire army is excessive?"

Cailan grinned. "Rather astute, don't you think, Duncan?" Not waiting for Duncan to answer at all, Cailan shrugged. "I said the same, but again, my advisor sees things differently. Better safe than sorry, and all that."

Areth gnawed on her bottom lip. The king was an agreeable enough shemlen, she had concluded, but he had an disturbingly lax attitude about what the rest of Ferelden viewed to be the biggest threat in centuries. As she was mulling over her response, the sound of rapidly approaching footfalls caused her ears to perk reflexively. Surprisingly, Cailan noticed this and turned to face the approaching foot soldier.

"Your majesty, Teyrn Loghain has requested an audience with you at once."

Cailan turned to the the Warden and the elf with a weary sigh. "Duty calls, Wardens. Areth," the king intoned with a slight bow. "it has been my pleasure. Duncan, I will send word for you within the hour."

Duncan bowed briefly, then gave Areth an expectant look. She crossed her arms and gave the king a curt nod, causing Duncan to exhale sharply through his nostrils. Cailan smirked, then began to follow the emissary across the bridge. As soon as the king was out of earshot, Areth turned to Duncan.

"You think he's an utter moron, don't you?"

Duncan's brow crinkled. "I think he is exuberant in his youth, and needs time to mature. As does one of his subjects in particular."

Areth scoffed. "Forgive me, Duncan, but aren't the Wardens a neutral group? They bow to no one, the only true protectors of the people, and all that?"

"We'll quickly lose that status if our junior members lack any semblance of respect." He quipped back. Areth waved her hand dismissively, as if shooing away a gnat.

"Regardless, you don't buy what he says about the darkspawn for a minute, do you?"

Duncan's pause said enough for Areth. When he spoke again, his tone was measured.

"This is indeed a Blight. Wardens have… abilities that no others possess. Gained after joining the order, you see. I can conclusively say that there _is_ an Archdemon leading the darkspawn, although it hasn't appeared from the Deep Roads yet."

"Deep Roads?"

"A massive underground highway constructed eons ago by the dwarves, and currently lost to the darkspawn."

"Aren't some darkspawn the size of people, though? How do they fit through the tunnels if dwarves made them?"

Duncan chuckled softly, some of the tension draining from his face.

"I imagine the Order will be making a trip down there soon, you shall see then." He said, nodding. Areth shrugged. A trip through cramped tunnels certainly didn't sound pleasant, but if she had learned anything by travelling with Duncan, they probably didn't even know what pleasant meant. Cracking her neck, (something she discovered she did more often than she thought), she stared across the canyon at the assembled camp.

"Well, I'm sure you have more for me to do than shoot the shit with domestic dignitaries." She said, with a well-practiced tone of indifference. Duncan motioned for them to cross the bridge.

"First, it would be wise to go about finding that hot meal we were discussing previously today. You'll need strength for what is to come."

Duncan's strides were longer than usual. She noted he had adopted a certain swagger as they approached the camp. He was clearly no stranger to throwing his weight around.

"And then?"

The Warden-Commander fished around in the pouch he kept at his hip. With a soft clinking sound, he withdrew a small handful of sovereigns that he motioned for Areth to take. Wide eyed, she accepted the gold and marveled at its weight. She'd never seen that much money at once, anywhere. Taking one between her teeth, she bit down.

"No shit, are all the Wardens this loaded?"

Duncan smiled indulgently. "At the start. You get an allowance for arms and armor. Find the smithy and have him make you something that will fit you. Actually…" Duncan pressed another sovereign into her palm. "Offer him a little extra, since he's probably not too practiced with fitting armor to someone of your stature. Don't let him swindle you, though."

Areth snorted. "Please." Anyone who had ever lived in Denerim knew how to haggle as well as they knew how to breathe.

Duncan conceded with a nod. "After that, I want you to find a man named Alistair. He ought to be towards the northern side of camp. If you pass the mage's tents, you're headed in the right direction."

They had arrived at the other side of the bridge, and the sounds were starting to cause Areth's temples to throb. Duncan pointed to a particularly close pillar of smoke.

"When you find Alistair, the two of you will come and meet with me and the other recruits there. Don't fret over remembering the exact location, Alistair will be with you."

Areth cracked her knuckles loudly. "I certainly was starting to worry, thank you, Duncan."

Duncan smiled softly, running a finger along his beard.

"You really are far too much like your mother."

"You say that like you think it's a good thing." Areth replied. "And maybe it is, but certainly not for shemlen."

Duncan's smile didn't falter. "Perhaps not, but your mother had a terrific propensity for greatness, no matter her misgivings about humans."

Areth's heart skipped as Duncan spoke of her mother. Her own memories never seemed to do the woman justice, and her father was tight-lipped on the subject. She didn't let her excitement show, however. With a shrug that she hoped came off as apathetic, she started off towards where she heard the clank of a hammer on metal.

Under his breath, quiet enough to go unnoticed by human ears, Duncan muttered. Areth smirked as she threw her shoulders back, starting into the swarm of activity. She'd milk this Warden thing as well as she could.

"_You're damn right you'll have your hands full, Duncan."_

* * *

**Bit of a slower chapter, I think I'll do a POV switch for the next one. Not sure where I'll go with that one, though so we'll see how it shakes out. Thanks for the read C:**


	3. Chapter 3

**Switched to Alistair's point of view for this one! Kind of skimming over the Joining/Ostagar. It always seems a little redundant to me, so there's a bit of information in here, but mostly I just want to get these guys on the road. Enjoy!**

* * *

For what was perhaps the first time in his life, Alistair had not spoken for hours. Ordinarily, he was the most obtrusively cheerful person in the room, but the events of the last twelve hours had become too much for his mind to handle, and his mouth shut down in lieu of processing his current situation. One, he was sitting on a log outside of the hut that belonged to Flemeth, the dreaded Witch of the Wilds. Although, having met her acquaintance twice now, she didn't seem anything like the legends made her out to be. Instead of a bloodthirsty abomination, he found her to be no less pleasant than a particularly batty old bag. She was more the type you wouldn't want to be stuck talking to at a party. She sat next to him, tending a barely-flickering fire. For whatever it was worth, she left him well alone after she explained what had happened at Ostagar. Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose, an ache blossoming at the base of his skull. This entire situation was an utter disaster.

* * *

All the Grey Wardens were gone, save for himself and the newest Warden in all of Ferelden. The king was gone, _Duncan_ was gone. And Loghain had left them all to die with his retreat. And his_ only_ ally in the world happened to be a human-hating, teetering on sociopathic elf with a chip on her shoulder that was bigger than all five feet of her. She was competent as they, and wielded her two dirks like an absolute terror. She had good instincts that Alistair was totally fine admitting he would never have. He was certifiably glad that she was on _his_ team. But outside of a fight, there was something incredibly off about Areth. Being the only one to survive their Joining was typically a traumatic experience, but Areth hadn't batted a lid the entire time. Not when Daveth submitted to the taint immediately after drinking the darkspawn blood, and not when Duncan ran Jory through after the soldier drew his blade. Alistair had been witness to several Joinings now, and never had he seen a recruit balk so hard they tried to fight their way out of it. Areth had merely stepped over the corpses and accepted the cup. She didn't flinch as sipped the blood, merely handed the cup back to Duncan, sniffed, and then collapsed in a heap. If Alistair hadn't thought she'd died, it probably would have been funny. But that little elf was made of stern stuff, and an hour hadn't even passed before she woke up, practically snarling. If he had to guess, she'd seen the Archdemon while she was unconscious. He tried to ask her what she'd seen, but he soon found out she wasn't the talkative type.

Well, he supposed she was talkative, just not very friendly or polite. However, she managed to end up invited to the king's strategy meeting, despite having the manners of an bear with a thorn in its behind. And it was the strangest thing, but as he was returning to the strategy table to rendezvous with her and Duncan, she saw her deep in conversation with the king. And she was almost smiling. As she saw Alistair approaching, however, her brow furrowed. As the king was still jabbering away, she glanced between the two men, then cast one final gaze at Alistair before replying to something Cailan said with a dismissive wave. Alistair prayed her powers of observation weren't as astute as they seemed when they had ventured out in the Wilds. The elf could hear a twig snap from a mile away. It was kind of creepy. He didn't need that kind of attention paid to him, _especially_ not around Cailan.

* * *

Alistair sighed, staring at the reeds that stuck out of the water as they fluttered in the breeze. After that, everything had gone straight to hell in a handbasket.

* * *

Being stuck with Areth as a runner to the Tower of Ishal was bad enough, but being told to stay at the top of the tower, even after they had signaled Loghain's men to charge with the beacon, stung Alistair a bit. He was green compared to the other Wardens, yes, but he certainly had enough experience to hold his own in the main battle. There was a steely glint in Duncan's eye that smothered Alistair's protests as soon as they left his mouth. Areth had been nodding mutely through all of it, and when Duncan dismissed them to take their places, she strolled casually away to the bridge. As Alistair had stomped after her, he felt Duncan's hand firm on his elbow. Alistair would remember that moment for the rest of his life, however long that was.

"_You must protect that girl, Alistair."_

_Alistair stared at Duncan, jaw tightening. "I will." He said, after a moment's hesitation. "Maker be with you, Duncan."_

_Duncan's eyes flashed knowingly._

"_May he be with us all."_

The trouble was, Duncan hadn't given much credence to the thought that the tower had underground entrances. By the time Areth and Alistair had gotten there, the battle had started and the Tower of Ishal was practically pouring darkspawn. Luckily enough, the two Wardens had found a sizeable company of soldiers and Circle mages that managed to escape and almost all of them were willing to help them take the tower back. Those who weren't at least agreed to guard the gates.

When they entered the tower, however, luck decided that the Wardens didn't really _need_ it anymore.

Despite the constant assault of darkspawn, Alistair and Areth had actually worked quite well as a team. Alistair could knock the smaller genlocks to the ground with one pass of his shield, then Areth was on it like a fury, her blades a metallic blur as they sliced cleanly through the shrieking creature. Hurlocks, while bigger, had still been pretty straightforward. Alistair kept them engaged with his sword long enough for Areth to get the drop on them. She was silent as a shadow when she was sneaking. Alistair figured it was a combination of the simple leather armor she wore, and the fact that she probably weighed as much as a soggy kitten.

They'd managed to clear a path all the way to the top of the tower, where Alistair had triumphantly lit the beacon. Watching the smoke rise into the sky, he couldn't help but strike a little pose, even though he was covered in sweat and brackish darkspawn blood. Areth rolled her eyes with a derisive little snort, but he swore one corner of her mouth curled up for a brief moment.

And with a tremendous crash, their little victory was over as soon as it began.

Alistair had seen an ogre or two in his time with the Wardens. According to Duncan, they were essentially corrupted Qunari. Alistair could sort of make out a resemblance. Qunari and ogres both had horns, and both were really rather large. And that was just about it.

Before Alistair could hatch some inevitably awful plan, Areth had initiated one of her own and charged right at the thing. Alistair barely had time to draw his sword before the petite elf had slid between the ogre's legs and dug one of her dirks into its calf.

"_For fuck's sake you stupid shem, DO SOMETHING!"_

With a cry that Alistair had hoped sounded more brave than like a terrified little girl's, he started bashing the front of his shield with the hilt of his sword, sending the ogre whirling towards him. A great flux of energy that made his ears ring was being conjured up behind him. His training as a Templar made him very sensitive to magic, and by the feel of it, the Circle mage, named Cicero, he believed, was planning on baking that ogre to a crisp. Alistair felt his reservation, and realized he was waiting for Areth to do whatever she had planned.

And, shock of all shocks, it had gone horribly.

In her defense, she managed to climb up and hang on to the charging ogre for a while, her blade stuck in the junction of its neck and shoulder, where she had been trying to saw away at the sinuous muscle. However, that had just pissed the ogre off entirely, and halfway through its mad dash towards Alistair, it reached over its shoulder, and slashed its filthy claws across her face. With a blossom of red, she fell off the ogre's back, her blades still firmly in hand. Alistair hoped the sickening crunch he heard when she hit the ground was just some cricks in her back she needed to work out and not her skull. Shooting a frantic look at the mage and nodding, Alistair squared his shoulders and dropped into a wide legged crouch, shield covering most of his body, trying to bait the ogre. Just when the ogre was a few meters away, the world transformed into hell. Flames sprouted from thin air in front of the ogre, then right when it passed through the floating ball of fire, pure force and heat exploded forth, knocking Alistair squarely on his ass. Scrambling to his feet, he saw the ogre lying motionless in a puddle of its own organs and blood, a hole torn in its chest. Turning to Cicero, he gave a thumbs-up, then trotted to where Areth lay.

She groaned weakly as Alistair gently turned her over, and he almost wished he hadn't. Almost the entirety of the left side of her face had been gouged to a bloody, dirt-flecked pulp. He couldn't even tell if she still had an eye, since a chunk of her forehead that had been scraped clean from the bone hung by a thread over where her eye should have been. He cursed loudly, then turned to call for a healer.

It was then that everything went dark.

* * *

Sometime during his eighteenth mental recounting of the previous night, Alistair had stood up and began to pace furiously back and forth. And, for about the twenty seventh time, he wondered what he could have done differently.

"Careful, boy. You'll pace a rut right through the soil if you keep that up." Flemeth warned, not looking up from poking at the embers in the small fire pit. Alistair chuckled humorlessly.

"Might find the Archdemon faster that way." He said, his voice rough after not having used it for almost the whole day. "I doubt he would mind if I dropped in, maybe said hello."

Flemeth chuckled. "That humor returns to you so quickly is a good sign."

Alistair stopped his pacing and cast an anxious glance back at her hut. "You're sure she's going to be okay?"

"Stop worrying, boy. She's alive." Flemeth placated, then frowned. "She is not going to be the same as she was the first time she stepped into these wilds, however."

Alistair cringed. He had already assumed the damage to her face wouldn't quite be reparable, but he had been hoping she wouldn't be entirely disfigured. Areth didn't seem the vain type, but he didn't think anyone would take losing half their face too well. And Flemeth's disquieted frown said plenty to Alistair.

"Thank you again, Flemeth." Alistair said to the old witch, running a hand through his hair. Flemeth harrumphed.

"It's like I told you, Warden. This Blight threatens me as it does all of Thedas. Given you were the only two Grey Wardens not dead or being dragged into the Deep Roads, I didn't have much choice."

Alistair shrugged, having once again gotten the same response out of her time and time again. "I still appreciate it."

"Your journey will not be easy; you may come to regret those words before long."

Alistair opened his mouth to speak, when a mangled scream and a loud crash sounded from inside Flemeth's hut.

"Looks like your fellow Warden is awake." She said, her tone hinting at slight amusement. Alistair had taken two steps towards the door when it was flung open and Areth barreled out in a loose pair of cotton trousers and the cloth that barely kept her chest covered. Alistair slowly raised his hand in what was meant to be a calming greeting, then froze. Her face had been largely reconstructed, to his amazement. The only sign that anything had ever happened was a faint hue of pink from her hairline that skimmed around the side of her nose, then veered off sharply towards her jawline. Flemeth had even managed to restore her eyebrow, although it was noticeably wispier than the other. But what had made Alistair's blood run cold was Areth's eye. One thin ridge of scar tissue ran just under it, but there was something clearly beyond cosmetic about it. Her left eye darted around in perfect tandem with the right, but there was a glassy look to it. Where her right eye was the same brilliant green, the other had turned to a milky olive color. Areth whimpered, digging her fist into her eye and rubbing furiously.

"Morrigan, stop her." Flemeth said, calmly. The Witch of the Wild's daughter stepped out of the hut, and wrenched Areth's arm from her face with a controlled force. Areth snarled at the significantly taller woman and tried to shake free.

"Would you stop this foolishness?" Morrigan hissed. "You're behaving like a beast with its leg caught in a trap."

Areth struggled even harder against the mage's grasp. "What happened to _my fucking eye_?!"

"Be grateful that you are alive at all! T'was no easy task to put the remains of your face back together." Morrigan chided harshly. Areth stopped struggling and stared up at her, her face equally furious and quizzical.

"What the fuck happened to my_ face_?"

Alistair sighed and stepped forward. "You charged an ogre, jumped onto its back, stabbed it in the neck, then it tore half your face off and you landed head first on the ground."

Areth squinted at him like she'd forgotten who he was. Alistair cleared his throat nervously.

"Ahem. I'm glad you're okay."

Regarding him with the same distaste of someone who found something particularly unpleasant on their show, she shook her head. "So what the hell happened?" She looked at Flemeth at this point. "Why are we here?"

"The man who was supposed to provide reinforcements for the king's army, quit the field upon seeing your beacon. The king, his army, and all the Grey Wardens, save for the two of you, were slaughtered." Flemeth recited. Areth's jaw clenched and Alistair swore he could hear her teeth grinding from where he stood. He really did feel for his fellow Warden. Losing use of one eye wouldn't be a big deal if they were in any business other than fighting things, but her handicap would set her at an almost cruel disadvantage, especially against large numbers.

"_You must protect that girl, Alistair."_

Alistair owed Duncan so much. The least he could do was honor the man's final request. He thought it was an odd last request, but Duncan never did anything without a reason.

"Then we kill him." Areth said simply.

Alistair almost laughed. She really was like a soggy, crabby, feral little kitten. He had plenty of misgivings about the little elf, but her tenacity was not one of them.

"While I totally agree that killing Loghain should be on our to-do list, I think we may have a more pressing issue." Alistair ventured tentatively. "Namely of a dark and spawn-y variety."

Areth stared at Alistair, and he found himself squirming under her gaze. If it had been hard to get a read on her before, it was damn near impossible now. Her blind eye gave nothing away, it just watched him, glazed and baleful, almost like that of a corpse. He fought back a shiver, hoping he hadn't manage to poke the angry cat in the wrong way. Then she nodded, her little hands balling into fists.

"Please tell me you have those treaties Flemeth gave us."

Flemeth crowed from the fire. "Do not talk about me as if I am not here, girl."

Areth mumbled an apology as Alistair groped around in his belt pouch. With the first real smile he'd cracked all day, he pulled the folded documents forth.

"All here."

Areth plucked the documents from his hand and flipped through them, reading slowly. "They compel assistance from dwarves, the Dalish, and the Circle Tower."

A faint smile played at her lips. It was then Alistair realized how young she must be. When she smiled like that, guarded, but with just a little hope poking through the cracks, she looked no older than nineteen years old. Not much older than he was when his Templar training really began. He'd been just as angry as she always seemed when he was that age, too. Angry for different reasons, though. He was angry at the Chantry, and the Revered Mother, and mages, and the other Templars, and Arl Eamon-

_That's it!_

"The village I'm from!" Alistair practically crowed, making the elf and two mages jump. "Redcliffe Village!"

Areth looked completely lost. "I'm so glad you remember where you're from, Alistair."

Despite how crushing weight of responsibility that had suddenly landed squarely on his head, Alistair laughed. Morrigan was laughing, but her laughter held a mocking edge. Flemeth was merely watching the three of them with an inexplicable expression.

"The Arl of Redcliffe. He's a… family friend, I guess you could say." Alistair explained. "He's never cared for Loghain. We can go to him and tell him what happened, he's got one of biggest armies in all of Ferelden! I know he'd believe us!"

"Mages, elves, dwarves, this Arl Eamon…" Flemeth muttered, eyebrow cocked. "This sounds like an army."

Areth was back to staring blankly at their surroundings. "I suppose it is. Can't imagine the darkspawn would take the two of us alone all that seriously."

Flemeth chuckled. "You would do well to curb your tongue, girl. Some may not appreciate it like old Flemeth does."

Ignoring the witch, Areth handed the treaties back to Alistair. "Looks like we have work to do. Where do we head first?"

Alistair studied the elf's face carefully. She seemed entirely indifferent to the mire they had found themselves stuck in, entirely ineffectual and businesslike as she more or less had helmed leadership from him. He felt equal parts relieved and anxious. He wasn't much of a leader, and he was entirely at peace with that. But he was hesitant to pass control of what was left of the Order to a barely-past teenage elf with a significant distaste for humans and manners. As he tucked the papers back into his pouch, he decided that protecting her would be closer to herding a rabid wolf than keeping her out of danger, and that he would do it anyway.

"There is a village not far to the north of here that is probably still relatively free of darkspawn." Flemeth intoned, also appearing to be sizing up Areth. "Before you go, there is a favor I must ask of you."

Areth huffed. "What is it?"

She didn't seem the type that relished granting favors to anyone, but her begrudging tone implied she knew they both were in debt to Flemeth, no matter how that rubbed at them. Flemeth, looking entirely pleased with this, gestured to her daughter.

"Take her with you."

Morrigan, who had remained silent for most of their entire exchange, gave a rather undignified squawk. From their prior encounter during the Joining preparations, Alistair couldn't say he much cared for the witch, and that was being generous. If he was being _honest_, he thought she was equal parts creepy and uppity and had been looking forward to being far and away from her.

"Absolutely _not_." He and Morrigan said in perfect unison. Areth giggled uncharacteristically.

"That was kind of cute. But I'm sure Morrigan would be perfectly fine staying here, Flemeth."

"I'm sure she would." Flemeth singsonged. "But friends will be hard for you to come by, Warden. I suggest you do not spurn help where it is offered."

"And I suppose I have no say in this?" Morrigan hissed, glaring pointedly at her mother, who returned the gaze impassively.

"You've wanted out of this swamp for years, my dear. This is your opportunity." Then, Flemeth dipped into a solemn tone. "This Blight threatens the Wilds as it does the rest of Thedas. It must be stopped, if not for the sake of mankind, then for your mother."

Morrigan's mouth snapped open to respond, then her gaze fell like a child who'd just been told the Feastday Fairy wasn't real.

"Very well, mother."

Flemeth clucked and made to shoo Morrigan into the house. "Collect your things, daughter. I'm sure the Wardens would love to get underway."

Both of the witches retreated into the hut, leaving Alistair and Areth alone. Areth cleared her throat and looked Alistair up and down.

"You okay?"

Alistair barked out a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. "The sun is shining, we're the only two Grey Wardens left in Ferelden, and we just picked up an insane swamp witch. I'd say I'm one for three, which is better than nothing at all."

"I mean about Duncan."

Alistair's mood plummeted in a blaze. "I'd rather not think about it."

Areth nodded, her ears bobbing with the motion. It was rather precious, in a way. Alistair pursed his lips. "What about you?" He gestured lamely to his eye, hoping she'd get the drifft. Areth fixed him with an alarmingly cool gaze.

"I'll let you know after I throttle every last darkspawn I see."

So, not well. At least she was channeling it into something productive. Small miracles, Alistair reminded himself. Areth spat on the ground. Manners were next on the list.

"Well I'm gonna go get my armor." She said, curtailing the awkward silence before it became unbearable. It was then that Alistair realized the elf was more or less topless, and his face was burning profusely before he could do anything about to stop it, and tried to stammer out an apology. Areth rolled her eyes, turning back to the hut.

"You could try and be a little less obvious, _shem_." She spat over her shoulder before disappearing into the house. Alistair sighed.

Getting her to knock off the racial slurs was definitely on the to-do list.

* * *

**Thanks for the read, see you next time!**


	4. Chapter 4

**So this chapter took a little longer than the others, but I think I found a good pace for updates. Plus, I did a little updating to the first chapter. I have this compulsion to correct the things I write after I publish them, which is very bizarre, but at least it gets done! Anyway, I hope you like this new chapter!**

* * *

Areth wasn't partial to relying on anyone for anything. Growing up in the festering shitheap called the Denerim Alienage had given her a crash course in self-reliance. It was something she clung to almost obsessively. Her firmest belief was to never rely on anyone for anything she couldn't provide for herself. That was an old adage of her mother's, actually. And it was the most powerful weapon she'd ever given Areth- even more powerful than the ability to wield the blades that dangled from either side of her hips. So travelling for half a day relying on the eyesight of an apparent simpleton who had an endless array of horrible jokes always at the ready was just about her worst nightmare realized.

"Because seven ate nine!" Alistair guffawed, beaming at his fellow Warden expectantly. Areth and Morrigan groaned in unison.

"'Tis truly remarkable that one of the last Wardens in Ferelden is also the most simple. Surely you hold some kind of record, Alistair." Morrigan ground out from behind him.

"At least you don't have to stand right next to him." Areth grumbled, continuing to stomp along the road.

"_I_ offered to guide you." Morrigan said airily. Areth rolled her eyes. She didn't trust Morrigan as far as she could throw her, and given the swamp witch had at least a head on her in height, that wouldn't be very far at all. While Morrigan's people skills left something to be desired, there was something else about the witch that threw Areth off-guard. Until she knew why, the elf would keep her weapons close. Areth hefted her pack higher on her shoulders, shaking the thoughts from her head.

Briefly, she strained her right eye to cast a subtle glance at her other travelling companion. In sort of a cosmic sense, she understood why Alistair felt the need to stay close to her blind side. Her abilities were compromised to the point where, a few hours prior, a rabbit rustling in the bushes had her blades drawn almost immediately. Areth was a necessary and instrumental part of what needed to be done, but she was also a liability until she got used to half the world being dark. To be honest, she was surprised at Alistair for volunteering to help her at all. She'd made a point of being unpleasant to him, and while she still didn't _like_ him all that much, he certainly managed to be livable company. Sort of. But even with Alistair keeping watch on the left, she couldn't shake the feeling of dread that sat squarely in the pit of her stomach. Ever since the fighting at Ostagar, Areth had been anticipating the headache that heralded the arrival of the darkspawn.

The thought of seeing those… things again made her blood turn icy in her veins. Somehow, the darkspawn seemed like a violation of what was meant to be. Call it a violation of the Maker, or the natural order, or whatever. Areth's first instinct when she had seen them during the Joining preparations had been to run perhaps while vomiting profusely. But it was now her sole purpose to kill them, and she would. A burning desire to avenge her stolen eyesight calmed her nerves when she thought of them, but a cloud of fear still had her checking her blades every couple of minutes. The taint in her blood gave her the ability to... _hear_ them, in a sense. When they were near, it was skull-splittingly overwhelming. The thing about the darkspawn was that they didn't seem to have a language. It was like they communicated through this single hive mind, a collection of instinctive directions and primal urges of destruction and hate. It had been so difficult to think over the din, but Alistair assured her it became easier to block out. All the same, Areth imagined she'd be fighting her stomach too next time they ran into the darkspawn.

The sudden sound of Alistair's voice nearly caused her to jump out of her skin.

"Lothering's not that far from here, I think."

"Do you _think_ or do you _know_? T'was my impression that you couldn't even spell your own name, though it would be a pleasant surprise to affirm that you have indeed not been leading us in circles aimlessly."

She couldn't see him, but Areth swore she heard the click of Alistair's teeth as his jaw clamped shut. Areth sighed, a mixture of agitation and weariness.

"_Maybe_ we should all just be fucking quiet for the rest of the trip, yeah?" She snapped, turning to fix her glare on Morrigan. Alistair was too easy a target, and she imagined he wasn't feeling as well as he let on. He'd lost a lot in the past day. Areth had no way of understanding what he was going through, but she wasn't heartless enough to continue to push the man's buttons. Morrigan, on the other hand, seemed to legitimately enjoy jibing Alistair, and seemingly didn't have much regard for the grieving process. Usually it wasn't good form to taunt someone who had just lost everyone important to them.

Alistair grunted in affirmation, while Morrigan just gave a little "_humph_" and acquiesced.

They trudged on in silence for a while. A slight breeze had picked up, and Areth fastened the front of her armor shut. She liked to call it armor, but in truth, it was more or less a jacket made of rough leather that was hardened and reinforced on her forearms and across her chest. It was light enough for her to move around easily in, but tough enough to keep arrows and small blades from slicing her to little elf bits. She kept a shirt of light chainmail on under it, though. Just in case. Duncan had even thought to give her a shoulder pauldron to keep on her right arm. He had explained to her that, as a wielder of two blades, it was paramount to keep the attacking arm the most protected, otherwise you'd find yourself gutted. Areth remembered her mother telling her the exact same thing, years ago. Almost verbatim. Not for the first time, she felt a sting of regret that she hadn't found out more about her while she still had the chance. Now, Duncan was gone and the only person left who could tell her anything was her father, and that was on the off chance she ever saw him again. She lifted her scarf over her nose and scowled at the ground.

The scarf was another present from Ostagar, given to her by some old shemlen woman. Said her name was Wind? Whinny? Something like that. It was soft, deep royal blue. Areth had tried to avoid getting it dirty, but getting mauled by an ogre had created a rather noticeable stain on the dyed wool, to her chagrin. Idly, she wondered if Morrigan knew any magic tricks for getting stains out. Magic _had_ to be useful for more than just fireballs and turning into a dragon.

Suddenly, Alistair slowed his gait, making a small sound in the back of his throat that indicated it would be wise for her to do the same. Straining her ears, Areth tried to hear what it was that set the man on edge. She heard heavy footfalls and strained panting.

"Could be a wolf, but it sounds like it's alone." She said, flicking her larger dirk out of its scabbard.

"I saw it coming around the bend in the path to the left." He said. "It's far away, but it was too big to be a wolf. Maybe a bear."

Areth grunted. Whatever it was, the thing was getting closer.

"I'll go hide in the bushes on the right." She murmured. "You keep it distracted, I'll flank it, and with any luck, we'll eat well tonight."

She padded off to the side of the road and melted into the brush with barely a rustle. It was a talent she'd picked up in Denerim, after realizing she could never outrun the guards, but she sure as shit could outsmart them simply by jumping into the bushes or climbing up a tree. From her hideout, she saw Alistair draw his shield and blade, straining to see what unknown foe was approaching. Morrigan was leaning against a tree and hadn't even bothered to draw her staff. Granted it probably wouldn't be necessary, her apathy was a bit unsettling. Even for Areth.

The little elf strained to see down the road, and found it damn near impossible. Between only seeing out of one eye and trying to look through a tangled weave of foliage, it was essentially pointless. So she shifted her attention to her ears. They twitched as she listened intently. The panting was nearly cacophonous now, and for the first time, she noticed a keening whine with the creature's every exhalation, not unlike a dog's. Actually, exactly like a dog's. With an exasperated sigh, she rolled out of the bushes.

"It's a fucking _dog_, Alistair."

Alistair whirled and looked at her, apparently flabbergasted. "How do you know? It's not like you can-" He broke off, with a mangled cough. Areth rolled her eyes.

"See? Thank you, I hadn't realized." She quipped, causing Alistair to turn a shade of beet red. "You know these ears aren't just for show, right?"

"You can _hear_ it?"

"Uh-huh." Areth said, nodding slowly. She gestured grandly and pointed at her ears. "Elf ears big. Me can hear lots."

Morrigan didn't even bother to stifle her laughter at the expense of the ex-Templar. Making the executive decision that this had wasted enough time, Areth trotted down the dirt road. The dog was visible now, and to her surprise, it was a solitary Mabari hound. A great big beast covered in chestnut hair, its tongue lolled ungracefully out of its mouth as it bounded towards her. And though the tail of the Mabari was little more than a stump, its entire behind wiggled with it. The massive dog skidded to a stop in front of her and sat, just a little short of being eye-to-eye with the tiny elf. She eyed the dog speculatively, then patted it on the head.

"Well you're a good boy, aren't you?" Areth said, as if talking to a human. She had heard that Mabari were intelligent dogs, so cooing at the dog would have made her feel ridiculous, and could have possibly insulted it. The dog barked sharply, making Areth cringe at the booming sound.

"Where's your owner?" She asked, crossing her arms and giving the dog a stern look. The Mabari whined and then, as if an idea had suddenly struck his brilliant canine mind, he barked and butted his massive head against her chest. Taken off balance, Areth stumbled backwards. She cocked an eyebrow at the dog.

"What makes you think I want a dog?"

Alistair and Morrigan caught up with the little elf, both arriving on either side of their de-facto leader.

"You are talking to a dog." Morrigan said, as if the thought hadn't occurred to Areth.

"Mabari have been known to understand conversational Ferelden." Alistair remarked. "There were a lot of them at Ostagar, this one may have gotten away. Odds are his owner…" The Warden cleared his throat. "Well, he probably hasn't even got one at all anymore."

Areth absently stroked the dog's ear. "Don't Mabari usually stick to one owner forever?"

Alistair shrugged. "Under ordinary circumstances, if they lose their owner, they're sent to breed. They're very devoted dogs. But given our circumstances are pretty far from ordinary, I think he must have been looking for you. Maybe he recognized you from camp?"

The dog barked twice, tail wagging furiously. Areth sighed, feeling her resolve crumble in the wake of the Mabari's puppy eyes. It's not like she hadn't always wanted a dog, anyway. She had even once heard somewhere that Mabari were given to the blind to help guide them. Taking the dog's massive head between her hands, she fixed him with a meaningful look.

"If you come with, you have to pull your weight, understand?"

The dog barked softly, his brown eyes twinkling in understanding. Giving him another pat, Areth straightened up.

"I guess that's that. What do we call you, then?" She wondered aloud. "The size you are, you'd probably make a hell of a battering ram. How does Ram sound to you?"

The Mabari woofed and whirled in excited circles. Areth laughed quietly.

"Ram it is, then." She said, starting down the road again.

"So we just have a _dog_ now?" Morrigan huffed indignantly. "You will not ask anyone for permission?"

"I promise I'll feed him and walk him every day, please oh please can I keep him?" Areth deadpanned. Ram had already fallen into stride on her left, ears perked and alert, and she wondered if the dog knew she couldn't see on that side.

"We already have _one_ slavering beast, why do we need another?" The mage continued, irate.

"Hey!" Alistair whined, his brow furrowing. Ram barked and Areth glanced down at him with a faint smile playing on her lips.

"Well at least this one doesn't talk."

"Oh _come on_."

Areth shrugged and tossed a smirk over her shoulder at Alistair. Even though the world was darker to her than ever before, she had a dog now. That definitely brightened things up a bit.

* * *

A few hours later, the sun was beginning to set and Areth was getting nervous.

"You said Lothering wasn't far, Alistair." She growled, attempting to glare a hole through the man's armor.

"Well in the grand scheme of things, it_ is_ pretty close. But Ferelden is a large place, so it still takes a while to get… Well anywhere, really." Her fellow Warden replied, glancing at the compass in his hand. "But, we're _definitely_ going to be there before sundown."

Areth placed a hand on Ram's back. The dog was proving to be a substantial comfort to her, and he hadn't strayed from her blind side once since joining their little group. The hound whined quizzically at his master, but she gave him a few soft pats to assure him she was fine. It astounded her how quickly the dog had bonded to her. Alistair called it "imprinting". The gist of it was that if a Mabari thought you were worthy of being its owner, then it would take to you instantly and unerringly. But apparently adult Mabari, at least, were exceptionally picky about their owner. If a Mabari didn't like someone, then that person was already well on their way to losing a finger or two. Areth wasn't sure what spurred Ram to seek her out, but he was a smart dog. Odds were he knew he would be safest from the darkspawn travelling with the Wardens. He had a pack to travel in and she had a seeing-eye dog. It was a mutually beneficial partnership. Plus, she enjoyed the dog's company much more than her human companions'.

"Ah, see? There's the Imperial Highway!" Alistair said triumphantly, pointing at what appeared to be a wall in the distance. "Lothering is just on the other side of it, over here."

"That's a road? Why's it all the way up there like that?" Areth said, squinting at the wall. "The ground isn't good enough for you shemlen?" She continued, halfway in jest.

Morrigan piped up, a few paces behind the Wardens. "The constant slurs in elven really _haven't_ grown old at all."

Areth turned to the witch, fixing a level gaze on her. The group had stopped at a lazy stream earlier, to fill up their waterskins, and Areth caught a good look at her dead eye in the reflection. It was creepy enough for _her_ to see, she could only imagine what her stare could do to other people. Per her prediction, the swamp witch averted her gaze uncomfortably. Turning back to Alistair, Areth waited expectantly. Clearing his throat nonchalantly, he continued.

"It was built by the Tevinter Imperium a long, long time ago, and-"

"Are they that violent country ruled entirely by mages that enslave hordes of elves?"

"That's the one." Alistair answered grimly.

"Well fuck 'em." Areth said, kicking a pebble. "And their fucking highway."

Ram chuffed, presumably in agreement. Alistair's eyebrows were raised as he nodded.

"I've never been a fan myself, either. I'm not sure if it's the slavery, or maybe the it's the human sacrifices... Either way, I certainly won't be vacationing there any time soon."

Areth rolled her eyes at the blonde man, who gave a little shrug in return. Allowing a brief smile, the elf turned her eyes back to the road.

"So we go to this Lothering place, gather information and supplies and shit, then what's our closest stop?"

Alistair lifted his pack higher up on his shoulders, chewing on the inside of his cheek, in what Areth assumed was his version of thought.

"Well, probably Redcliffe. Where that family friend of mine is." He decided, nodding. Areth rolled her neck, relishing the little pops she felt.

"So we go talk to this guy, and what?"

"Well right now, we're enemies of the crown. So we don't just need military support anymore. We need political backing too."

Areth groaned. "How did politics manage to get involved in the Blight, of all things?"

Alistair's jaw set grimly. "I'm not sure. Well, I am. It's Loghain's fault, I just don't know what motivation he could have had."

The elf threw her hands up impassively. "I don't know how any of you shem could ever call elves sneaky when your leaders are the damn slipperiest bastards in the country."

To her surprise, Alistair nodded. "You're right." He coughed a few times, then continued. "Anyway, the Arl of Redcliffe is a popular and well-respected man. His armies hadn't yet arrived to Ostagar when everything went wrong, so he still has all his men."

"Unless they ran into the Archdemon on the way home." Areth mumbled. Alistair gave a funny little laugh.

"Yes, unless a monster swooped down from the sky and ate his entire army, we have the support of at least one noble. That's better than nothing." He said. They were almost to the highway, where a mighty flight of stone steps ended the dirt path they had been travelling along.

"Maybe, but forgive me for not throwing all of my faith in a shemlen noble. They've never done much right by me." The elf said flippantly, clucking at Ram to let him know to pick up the pace. Behind her, Areth heard Morrigan say something to Alistair in an unpleasant tone, which the man pointedly did not acknowledge. Huffing, she started up the stairs, keeping a grip on the scruff of Ram's neck. This was the longest she had ever been around shemlen, and she was really hoping this Lothering had a few elves around. Being surrounded by humans at Ostagar had been miserably uncomfortable for the elf. She'd been mistaken for a servant of one of the merchants quite a few times, and if anyone pulled that in this town, she wouldn't be held responsible for any of their black eyes.

Once she made it to the top, she could actually make out the village not far down the way. Smoke billowed up from the area, but not in a way that shouted "ransacking and pillaging". Rather, it just looked like a whole bunch of campfires. Areth sighed in relief that they'd beaten the darkspawn there. Farther away in the distance, a windmill turned lethargically. Areth and Ram waited for Morrigan and Alistair to make it up the stairs before the elf pointed at the village, smiling honestly for the first time in a while. Alistair's face mirrored hers, while Morrigan's still looked like she was permanently smelling something awful.

"There's probably food over there!" She said, grinning. Alistair chuckled, almost indulgently.

"That's one thing about the Grey Wardens nobody ever got around to telling you, isn't it? You'll have the appetite of a pack of wolves from here on out." He explained, starting down the highway.

"Why's that?" Areth inquired mildly. Alistair shrugged.

"Maybe it gives our darkspawn-sensing powers a boost, who knows?" He said. "Or maybe the secret to defeating the Archdemon is to eat until we're massive and sit on it. Squash it right to death."

""Tis quite possible you could kill it with your poor attempts at humor." Morrigan added. Areth almost snorted.

"Har-har. Tell me, Morrigan, you must have had a _lot_ of friends back in the Wilds." The ex-Templar said, and his tone hinted at a hostility Areth hadn't seen from him before. Except when fighting darkspawn.

"I do not see how that is relevant to your inept jokes." Morrigan retorted hastily.

"Would you both kindly just knock it off?"Areth mumbled, rubbing her left eye as they continued towards the town. She could already tell she'd be playing the mediator a_ lot_. Areth trained her eyes down the long stretch of highway before her. Again, she was unsettled by the unusual darkness that pervaded her sight now, but the clack of Ram's nails on the road kept her from entirely flying off the handle. And despite their constant bickering, Areth was glad she had Alistair and Morrigan to travel with. Well, maybe not _them _specifically, she was just happy she wasn't alone.

It was then that she noticed noticed a man strolling towards her little group.

She'd spent enough time on the streets of Denerim to know a scoundrel when she saw one. And not the good kind you'd want to have drinks with. The actual thieving, cheating, backstabbing, conniving kind. A deep rumble sounded from Ram's chest, and the qupping behind her fell silent.

"Well he doesn't look like a friend." Alistair remarked. Areth's ears twitched.

"Not to us, but I hear that he has some coming."

About a dozen men leapt from the large trees that surrounded the highway, all falling into step behind the particularly slimy-looking man. Squaring her jaw, Areth strode towards him purposefully, Alistair and Morrigan close behind her. When they were within comfortable earshot of each other, the leader threw his arms open wide.

"Welcome to Lothering, weary travelers!" He cried, grinning with badly-yellowed teeth. Areth felt Ram's hackles rising under her fingertips.

"You're the welcome committee, then." She sneered. "They couldn't have found anyone better-looking in the whole damn village?"

Alistair cleared his throat conspicuously, but Areth ignored him. She was comfortable dealing with the lowly scum of the earth, whereas Alistair was too much of a goody-goody that would have them roll over and play along. And Areth was no longer in the business of doing _that_.

"My dear elfling, you wound me." The man moaned, holding a hand over his heart. Areth laughed harshly.

"Don't tempt me, shem." She said dryly, fingers drumming on the hilts of her blades. Her tone dropped menacingly. "Now, what is it that you want?"

The man glanced back at his men, then smiled in what she assumed was his version of warmth. "Well, you see, this is a rather well-used highway."

Areth glanced around at the empty stretch of road. "No, it's not."

The man laughed, but there was a harsh edge to it now. "You'll have to take my word for it,_ knife-ears_. And such an extensively used thoroughfare gets run-down, see?"

Areth's pulse hummed in her ears at the slur, but she forced herself to calm down. "And let me guess, you're collecting a toll for 'maintenance' on the road?"

The man snapped his fingers and beamed back at his men. "She's a smart one, she is!"

A chorus of agreement rose from the assembled lackeys. Areth smiled warmly at the man, hand now firmly gripping her right blade.

"Well, I'm not fucking paying." She growled, still keeping the smile pasted on her face. "I'm not sure how many stupid shemlen you've managed to dupe with this, but it's not working for you here."

"Shame." The leader of the bandits sighed, unsheathing a cruel-looking dagger. The rest of his men hesitantly followed suit. From the back, a rather large and stupid looking fellow spoke up.

"Maybe we should let 'em through, boss. They don't look like no ordinary travelers."

Areth whirled her dirks out of their sheaths. "He's right." She said, lazily dropping into a fighting stance. She felt her palms start to sweat, despite her bravado. She was in _no_ way ready to take on anyone with her eye the way it was. She'd barely stopped jumping at squirrels. Ram pressed closer to her, as if sensing her discomfort.

"Nonsense!" The bandit leader crowed cheerfully. "Everyone needs to pay the toll _somehow_!"

Areth felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She figured it was just her nerves, until she was knocked off her feet from behind.

"What the fuck, Alistair?!" She yelped, before a blinding light shot over them, tearing through the air with a vicious sound. It struck the bandit leader and disappeared, but the man was shivering and convulsing silently, eyes bulging out of his head. It was like what she had heard happened to Reinar, an elf from the Alienage who had been struck by lightning.

"_Where the hell did lightning come from?"_ Areth thought to herself, looking around. Alistair had clambered off her and had both shield and sword in hand.

"Sorry, Morrigan didn't give me much of a heads-up." He said hastily before tearing off towards a man brandishing a hatchet.

Areth's eyes widened in surprise. Morrigan had been able to conjure up that spell quickly, without anyone even noticing. Areth reminded herself to be impressed later, pushing to her feet, her dirks still firmly in-hand. Nodding at Ram, they both threw themselves into the minor fracas. Thankfully, Morrigan's magic trick scared off all but four of the bandits. Well, three, actually. Ram had just ripped the throat clean out of one before darting off towards another. That left one for Areth to square off against. With Alistair engaging the only bandit left, she felt a bit better. There wasn't anyone that could sneak in from her left, just a boy maybe midway through his teens, with a pockmarked face whose sword was too heavy for him to hold. Shaking her head, Areth feinted to the right, sending the boy's sword arm dropping to cover the area. The weight of the blade caused him to overcommit to the action, however, and Areth took the opportunity to slash at the exposed flesh of his forearm. She felt his tendons sever like she was slicing through a tightly-pulled rope. Howling, the teen crumpled to the ground, his sword clattering to the ground. Areth kicked the blade aside and squatted down next to him. Gripping him by his hair, Areth yanked his head up so they were eye-to-eye.

"You just lost to a half-blind elf girl." She spat. "I would run along home and rethink your career choice, while you've got the head to do it."

Whimpering, the boy cast a fearful look at her and stumbled to his feet. He ran away clutching his disabled arm to his chest. Areth stared reprovingly after him.

"Well, that's one way to scare them straight." Alistair remarked beside her. A faint sheen of sweat covered his face, but he was otherwise unaffected. Areth shrugged, sheathing her dirks.

"It's a favor to him, really. He wouldn't have lasted long."

Alistair scoffed good-naturedly. "They probably said the same thing about you."

Rolling her eyes, Areth adjusted her scarf and trotted off where Ram was nosing at a stack of crates. There was probably a hefty reward to be claimed in there. Her conscious didn't stir once at the thought of stealing already stolen goods, it's not like anyone would know the difference. Besides, she needed a warm bed and a meal more than anyone in the world.

* * *

**Alright, there's that one! Five should be done within the week. Cheers!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Alrighty, chapter five! I think this one is the longest yet, but it took me the shortest amount of time to write. Being a natural ginger, I must just be able to channel Leliana pretty easily. Enjoy!**

* * *

For about the fourth time that day, Leliana was biting back the urge to curse the Maker. High sacrilege for a lay sister of the Chantry, but she at the end of her rope and swinging freely.

For weeks before the sacking at Ostagar, refugees had been streaming into Lothering daily. They filled up the Chantry, the tavern, the crop fields outside of town, and even the alleyways between the squat buildings in town. And none of them had shown any indication of moving, even after scores more of weary evacuees filed into town immediately after the disastrous battle. Leliana's heart truly did ache for them, but she couldn't ignore the strain it was putting on the locals and the Chantry. So, after a long day of tending to and entertaining the children of the refugee families, she was planning on spending a few hours at Dane's Refuge. Although it was also full to bursting with those displaced by the Blight, the stew was slightly less watery than what they were serving at the Chantry. There was also the possibility she could convince Danal, the owner, to sneak her a pint of whatever ale there was left. It was typically frowned upon for those of the cloth to drink, but Leliana could usually scrape by on the technicality that she hadn't yet been officially initiated as a sister. Besides, calling the ale in Lothering anything other than pisswater would be a selflessly generous and holy act in itself.

The sun had just begun to set over the horizon as she walked over the bridge in the center of town. With the way the world look cast in a pink and orange hue, Leliana found it hard to believe something as twisted as the darkspawn could ever exist when there was such beauty to be found as well. Sighing, she mentally uttered a brief thank-you to the Maker. She had found in her experience, despite times being dark, it did her much better to thank the Maker than to bear a grudge against Him. Holding on to frustration like that had never benefitted _anyone_. Besides, on such a pleasant autumn day like today, who could possibly be in a bad mood, darkspawn be damned. Despite it all, some things remained the same as usual. Chickens clucked in their pens, children tried to push each other into the stream, women hung their washing on the clothesline. In times like these, even the mundane carried a touch of the miraculous. Leliana truly did thank the Maker for creating something as beautiful as humankind, despite their flaws. Tucking a wayward strand of hair behind one ear, Leliana smiled at nothing in particular, content to think about happier things. If only for a little while.

Unfortunately, being in her happy place typically meant she was walking around in a daze, and in her inattention, she bumped into a rather surly-looking child. Hard enough that the slight little thing was sent careening onto her behind. With a gasp, Leliana knelt down to help her up.

"I am _so_ sorry, my dear. Here, let me help you-"

The child slapped her hand away. "You'd be a bigger help if you'd just watched where you were _walking_, shem."

Leliana balked slightly, wondering why that word sounded so familiar. Then she realized it was an elven word, and her eyes just about bulged out of her head. That was no child; that was a fully grown and rather enraged young elven woman. Her chestnut hair had fallen to reveal particularly large ears, even by elven standards. But they were tapered and delicate in a most appealing way despite their size, and they seemed to twitch at even the sounds Leliana herself could barely hear. Pursing her lips, Leliana extended her hand again.

"You're right, I apologize." She said, her tone placating. The little elf harrumphed and pushed herself to her feet, ignoring Leliana's offered hand. She dusted off her pants, which seemed more finely tailored than anything she'd seen Ferelden elves wearing. Leliana then noticed the blades sheathed on either side of the elf's thin hips with no small amount of surprise. Per her understanding, it was _extremely_ taboo for elves to carry weapons in Ferelden.

"You are a mercenary, no?" Leliana probed inquisitively. The elf shot the her an almost comically uncomfortable and hostile glance, and Leliana noticed with some interest that her eyes were two different shades of green, one a shimmering emerald and the other a pale olive that unsettled her deeply, for some reason.

"No." The little warrior grumbled, adjusting the filthy royal blue scarf that wrapped around her thin neck. She was clearly looking for an avenue around the strange woman trying to talk to her. And ordinarily, Leliana would have taken the hint and left well alone, but there was something about the elf that intrigued her immensely. Beyond the fact that she was armed and outfitted in what looked to be rather expensive and delightfully well-fitted leather armor, there was something inscrutably appealing about her. She was rather attractive, even with her slightly crooked nose and that strange pinkish splotch on the entire left side of her face. Her hair, shaggy and unkempt, fell to just above her shoulder in loose chestnut curls that accentuated her fine features. Her skin was a fair shade that would have been the envy of every noblewoman back in Leliana's home country, with a generous spray of freckles on her nose and across her right cheek. The elf was diminutive in stature, as well. But Leliana could tell by the way she held herself that she was graceful; most elves practically danced everywhere they went. There was something savage about her, however. Perhaps it was the tension she carried in her jaw, or the sharp concentration of her gaze. Had Leliana been back home, in Orlais, she would have been seriously considering bedding the small elf. It would be a triumph akin to catching a fox on the hunt. But seducing complete strangers was not the way of the Chantry, as she understood it. That was not her life any longer. As things were, Leliana noticed the tips of the elves ears reddening under her gaze, but with some satisfaction, she noticed her pupils had widened considerably. Her former training indicated to her the clear signal of desire. Clearing her throat, Leliana managed a reassuring smile, forcing her old instincts back into hibernation through sheer force of will.

"You know, there is much need for those with combat expertise just outside of Lothering." She began conversationally. "A group of bandits on the Imperial Highway has been causing much trouble for the refugees and the local authorities alike."

The elf, having collected herself as well, stared at her with a bored gaze. "Slimy bunch of guys, hiding in trees, collecting-" She made air-quotes with her thin fingers. "-tolls?"

Leliana nodded slowly. The elf waved her hand dismissively, her gaze flicking about like she was looking for someone.

"They're dead."

"Dead?" Leliana parroted back.

"Yeah, my dog ripped out two of their throats." The elf woman said, as if discussing the weather. "Speaking of, I have to go see where he got off to, I imagine the people of this town aren't familiar with any animals that aren't chickens, and I don't want him to give anyone a terrible fright. It has been an _absolute_ pleasure, though." She said dryly, deftly twirling around Leliana, then hustling toward the Chantry with a loping gait.

The redheaded woman found herself turning to watch the elf leave. With a bittersweet pang in her chest, she noticed that the elf had a rather adorable behind.

"_Ah, Leliana."_ She chided herself mentally. _"You always did get hung up on the most fleeting things."_

With a small shake of her head, Leliana sighed. There was a fine stew and a less fine pint of ale waiting for her at the tavern, and she was loathe to leave them waiting.

* * *

Two hours later, Leliana was still at the tavern, idly strumming the lute Danal usually kept floating around somewhere within his establishment. She was three pints of watered down ale deep, but she didn't feel drunk in the slightest- rather, she felt more sober than ever. Dane's Refuge was a sight for sore eyes even when everything was normal, but with all the refugees flooding into Lothering the inn had become an absolute madhouse. Men and women alike were either drinking themselves into a puddle of vomit or quietly sipping tankards with an expression Leliana could only describe as haunted. She'd seen it before on the faces of criminals to be publicly hanged back in Orlais. Her fingers still picking gently at the strings, she lifted her mug to her lips with her other hand. Danal had, quite understandably, diluted the ale so there would be plenty to go around. But the stuff that mustached man brewed was heady enough in more ordinary times that it was probably better off a smidgen watery anyway. It had a heavy, fermented taste that didn't wash down easily, and Leliana was out of stew.

"Looks like that's my last pint." She mumbled to herself, trying to find vestiges of cheer left in her to bring back to the Chantry.

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" Piped a cheery and obtrusively tall woman, flinging herself into a chair across from Leliana. The redhead smiled indulgently at her new table companion.

"Hello, Hawke."

The lanky, raven-haired apostate positively beamed at Leliana.

"I was just stopping by to have a pint of the piss here in this pile of shit." Hawke said, her striking blue eyes flashing mischievously. "And here I run into the sunrise and sunset of Lothering herself, Miss Leliana!"

Leliana rolled her eyes at Hawke, who winked at her in return before frantically waving at Danal to bring her something to drink. Stifling a giggle, she turned her attention back to lazily plucking at the strings of the old lute. Hawke's fingers began to drum out a rhythm on the gnarled table. Leliana smirked at her companion before setting the lute on the table and scooting her chair so she could lean across the table to talk to Hawke without having to bellow over the din of the crowd. Hawke rested her hand in the palms of her hands, letting out a long sigh.

"We're leaving tomorrow, Leli." She said, looking entirely dejected.

Leliana wished she could say she was surprised, but anyone who had the means to get out of Lothering was jumping at the chance. Still, tomorrow was earlier than seemed necessary.

"We have at least a week until the darkspawn regroup from Ostagar and make it here." Leliana said, studying Hawke. The normally merry woman's expression was now impossible to read, save for the genuine grin she shot Danal when he unceremoniously dropped a tankard of ale in front of her. Taking a long pull on her drink, Hawke's eyes were back to stormy.

"Carver got home a few hours ago." She said, staring down at the table intently. Leliana gasped.

"He's okay?" She probed hopefully. Hawke's younger brother was a bit of a git, but he was a good boy and Leliana had been praying fervently for his safe return ever since he left to join the forces at Ostagar. Hawke gave a half-shrug.

"Okay. I guess that's one way of saying it." She said, tapping a finger against her lips. "The moron can still swing a sword, that seems enough to keep him content. But apparently, the darkspawn weren't quite as routed as we thought they were at Ostagar. They've already managed to regroup."

Leliana's breath hissed between her teeth.

"How close _are_ they?"

Hawke ran her hands through her shaggy black hair, looking the most distressed Leliana had ever seen the woman in the whole year she had known her. She fixed Leliana with a gaze that betrayed her fear.

"Two days. Maybe three if the Maker's feeling generous." Hawke muttered. "And no offense, sister, but I'm not liking those odds."

Leliana gnawed at her thumb nail, breaking the skin. The coppery tang of blood mingled with the bitter aftertaste of the ale.

"Where are you going?" She asked finally. Hawke took another long sip of ale. Wiping her mouth, the mage shook her head.

"_Away_ from the darkspawn seems a fine jumping off point, don't you think?" She said wryly, then smiled softly at Leliana. "You should come with."

Leliana laughed quietly, reaching out to trace Hawke's knuckles. Theirs was a very intimate friendship, even notwithstanding the couple times they had really been… _intimate_.

"Ah, _mon ami_, you know I must stay." The redhead sighed. The apostate across from her wrinkled her nose.

"Oh you are just so _Orlesian_, Leliana. I never know what you're talking about half the time. You know what, you stay here." She jibed. Leliana flicked her friend in the knuckle, then drained the rest of her ale.

"It would not kill you to be a bit more cultured, Cora." She rebuked, using Hawke's first name to crawl under the other woman's skin. Hawke traced the rim of her mug with a thin finger, smirking into it.

"Have you _met_ me?" She said incredulously, flicking her hair from her eyes. The light dancing in her friend's eyes made Leliana feel normal, despite everything.

"They say swine can be taught to perform tricks, so it shouldn't be _much_ harder to teach you to be perhaps a little cultured."

Hawke's face crumpled in mock indignation.

"Under these distractingly good looks, I _do_ have feelings, Leliana." The mage's eyes then clouded once again, rendering her entirely unreadable. "I'm serious, though. You can come with us. You know my mother adores you. You know Bethany _really_ adores you. And Carver really _really_ adores you."

Leliana smiled at the thought of Hawke's younger sister, who also happened to be a mage. She was a pretty, doe-eyed little thing, but she knew how to take care of herself. The entire Hawke family did. And that was precisely why Leliana wouldn't follow them. They didn't need her help, the Hawkes would thrive and raise hell wherever they were regardless. The people of Lothering were in far more dire straits than Cora Hawke and her brood. Besides, Leliana had made a commitment to serve the Maker, and traipsing about with her friend and occasional bedtime companion after abandoning a village of helpless refugees to the darkspawn… Well, it didn't settle well with her. Leliana shook her head once again.

"You know I can take care of myself, Hawke. No matter what happens."

The taller woman seemed to give in, nodding. "I know you can, Leli." She puffed out her chest and reached out across the table melodramatically at the redhead. "That doesn't mean I shan't pine for you every day, _mon amor_."

Laughing, Leliana swatted Hawke's hand away. The apostate grinned at her, then took a sweeping look around the bar.

"I'll miss this shitheap in a very bizarre way, you know." She said leaning forward as if she was embarrassed by the admission.

"You shouldn't speak about such a fine establishment in such a manner." Leliana gasped.

Hawke stuck her tongue out. "I mean Lothering, on the whole. It's quiet, dozy, and boring as a burnt log, but at least it was a nice home while it lasted."

Leliana scratched at a smudge on her glass. "You've lived here for a long time, Hawke. Of course you'll miss it, but he Maker has a plan for you. Nobody wants the Blight to happen, but I truly believe everything happens for a reason. You should accept the direction the Maker has given you."

Hawke barked out a bitter laugh. "I'll try to keep that in mind, but I think any direction where I don't end up skewered is best for me right now. I don't think I've got much of a choice."

Leliana folded her hands on the table, giving Hawke a significant look. "I will miss you."

The mage cleared her throat, winking at Leliana. "We still have a little time for one last roll in the hay in the windmill, you know."

"You're incorrigible." Leliana teased, kicking the other woman's shin under the table. "I have to get back to the Chantry soon. A lot of hungry mouths."

"There's one right here, you- OW."

Hawke rubbed the spot on her head that Leliana had cuffed. "I'm gonna have to heal that later, you know. Maker, you hit hard."

Leliana opened her mouth to retort, but snapped it shut when the tavern doors opened and a handful of official-looking men entered. They didn't look like any division of Templar Leliana had ever seen, as they appeared more akin to the brutish bullies often employed by the arl, but it was usually a sound idea to keep her apostate friend well away from any kind of authority anyway. More because of her penchant for giving them lip than her potentially dangerous magical talents. Leliana nodded in the men's direction, silently telling Hawke that she should be on her way, as per their custom. This time, however, it was a bit more final than that. There was a set in her friend's jaw that told Leliana she was upset. Quickly, Hawke's hand snaked across the table to squeeze Leliana's hand in her own for a moment.

"Take care of yourself, Leli." Hawke hissed, her azure eyes suddenly burning with something Leliana couldn't place. Nodding, she smiled slyly at the mage.

"And you stay out of trouble. I owe you a 'roll in the hay' next time I see you, _ma cherie_."

Hawke laughed quietly and tipped the rest of her ale back. Standing, she nodded at Leliana. "How much trouble could I_ possibly_ get into?"

Leliana groaned and rubbed her temples. "Don't say that, Hawke."

With a faltering smile, Hawke pressed her palms flat against the table and leaned close to Leliana. "I promise we'll see each other again."

The apostate tucked a loose strand of fiery hair back behind Leliana's ear, then turned on her heel and strode away quickly, shoulders tense. Leliana watched her go, and for a long moment was certain she would be up and following the woman in a second. Hawke was perhaps the best person she'd ever met. She was equal parts genuine and clever, warm and calculating, funny and stern, and she looked fantastic naked on a quilt in a creaky old windmill. She was a brilliant mage, capable of summoning the elements at a single beckon as well as healing with an adept hand. And, unlike so many other apostates, she seemed entirely in control of her grip on reality. If all mages were like Hawke, the Circle of Magi wouldn't be necessary any longer. If all _people_ were like Hawke, the entirety of Thedas would be a much better place.

Then why, for the Maker's sake, was Leliana not following her right out that door?

Again, that _dream_ was haunting her. She had been turning it over in her head countless times, trying to discern any meaning behind it. In the dream, she had been consumed by a great and terrible darkness. It withered her away much like the Blight did to anything it touched, until she was certain she had died. But even during the terror that nightmare made her feel, something niggling in the back of her skull told Leliana to have hope.

When she woke in the morning, she went to the Chantry garden to meditate and try to make sense of the her dream. There was a rose bush in the garden, or what had _been_ a rose bush. The shrub had been dead for years before Leliana had even arrived in Lothering, and the Revered Mother had been speaking often of finally removing it from the garden. However, when Leliana passed by on that morning, a single rose had bloomed, producing a radiant crimson flower among the dry, grey brambles. Her immediate response was to chalk it up to a miraculous coincidence, but the more she thought about it, the more poignant the whole incident seemed. With the Blight on their doorstep, she dreamed of it, yet she still held onto a stubborn, insistent shred of hope, even in the dream. And that morning, she awoke to discover a beautiful, blooming flower on a long dead bush. It seemed to her that the Maker was trying to tell her something. The Blight could be combated, as long as Leliana, as well as the rest of the world, kept hope alive enough to stand against it. Fleeing the Blight with Hawke violated that vision, and that's what kept Leliana rooted to her seat as her friend walked away. She would just have to wait until she was compelled to action by the Maker, and that was that.

Sighing, Leliana began to amass the coins she needed to pay off her tab. Making her way through the crowd to the bar, she was bumped up against one of the men that had spurred Hawke's departure. As she tried to push past him, he said something that caused her to freeze in place.

"Loghain is acting on good information that those two Wardens were in Lothering. I don't care if we have to raze the damn town, we'll find them."

Leliana's hand drifted to her mouth. There were Grey Wardens in Lothering. With crashing suddenness, her vision began to assemble itself. Somehow, she had to accompany the Wardens on their journey to stop the Blight. In the darkness of the Blight, the few remaining Wardens were the only hope left in Ferelden, and the Maker was telling her she needed to help them. So she wasn't entirely positive what that would even mean, but Leliana figured the details would come to her as soon as she found the Wardens. Lothering wasn't a large town, it wouldn't be all too difficult to track down a pair of illustrious and heavily armed Grey Wardens.

The door of the tavern opened once more, and the tall man she was pushed against let out a yell and shook the shoulder of one of his companions.

"Looks like those Wardens are droppin' right into our hands, lads." He said, drawing his sword from its scabbard on his back.

_"Well that was simple enough."_ Leliana thought to herself, craning to try and catch a glimpse of the Wardens.

The crowd around him, save for his men and Leliana, cleared, pushing to the walls of the tavern with a chorus of frightful yelps and murmurs. Her eyes fell on the figures that stood in the doorway of the inn. There was a feral-looking woman, clad in mere scraps of clothing that were arranged in such a manner that they managed to be both horribly uncouth but also quite appealing. Her golden eyes flashed dangerously at the men that were approaching her, and the charred oaken staff on her back indicated to Leliana that she was indeed dangerous enough to warrant the deadly poise of her glare. Beside her, a strikingly handsome blonde man with a generous amount of chin stubble was slipping a shield with the Templar insignia on it off his back, looking a potent combination of furious and nauseous. A large Mabari hound crouched close to the ground, hackles standing on end. It kept casting glances to its right, at a small elven woman, who-

"_Oh Maker." _

It was that elf from earlier, on the bridge. Her blades were clutched in her hands with a white-knuckled grip. With a trained eye, Leliana noticed they were trembling ever so slightly. The little elf kept leaning slightly to her left, bumping her knee against the dog. Her eyes were wide as they trained on their hunters, and Leliana noticed something. While the elf's eyes were different colors, Leliana finally realized what was so striking about the the Warden's eyes. Her right eye, a brilliant emerald, danced with nervous anticipation, her left eye was devoid of anything at all save for the dim light of the tavern reflecting from it. It had the steady, unflinching gaze of a corpse. It reminded her of the blind beggars on the streets of Val Royeux. Leliana's breath hissed from her nostrils. The poor thing was half _blind_.

Reaching into the pocket of her robes, she snapped the thread holding the hole in the pocket shut. She reached through the hole and drew a thin dagger from its sheath on her thigh. Old habits died hard. With masterful grace, she wove her way around the men to stand firmly between them and the Wardens. A hum of surprise sounded from both sides.

"Gentlemen, please. Surely there must be some way to bring this to an amenable conclusion?" Leliana purred, trying to appeal to the men in the most successful manner she knew; through their pants.

"M'lady, I'm afraid this ain't none of your concern." The tallest man said, speaking to her as if she were a particularly precocious child.

Leliana flicked the dagger in her hand, bringing the man's attention to it for the first time. His eyes hardened perceptibly.

"I'm sure you have much better things to be doing than attempting to detain the only hope Ferelden has left." She said coldly. The man brought his sword to the front.

"I hate doin' this to such a pretty face, but y'throw your lot in with the likes of traitors and you'll die like 'em too." He said, taking a mighty swing at her.

Leliana parried, using her speed to redirect the weight of his strike, knocking the blade to the side. He recovered, bringing the blade back around in a clumsy swipe at her head, which she dodged easily enough. As she ducked, she butted the man's solar plexus with the hilt of the dagger, certifiably knocking the wind out of him. A blast of heat and undignified screams indicated that the scantily-clad mage woman had joined the fray, and the blurred shape of the Mabari sped past her to take down a man attempting to flee into the frightened crowd. Turning back to her target, she noticed he was gone. Whirling, Leliana searched for him amid the skirmish. The Wardens and herself weren't nearly as outnumbered as they were at the beginning of the fight. These men were unskilled and therefore easy enough to dispatch, but the little elf had been backed into a corner while everyone else was otherwise engaged. Leliana's mark was charging towards where the elf was desperately trying to hold off a man at least three times her girth wielding a hatchet. She was succeeding, but Leliana had the feeling that her handicap wouldn't put her at good odds against two larger men at once. Suddenly, the elf whistled shrilly.

"Ram, come get him!" She bellowed as loud as her raspy voice allowed. Leliana just barely managed to avoid being mowed down by the stampeding Mabari, and she decided right then that the dog was aptly named. With ease not belied by the hound's tremendous mass, it soared into the air to lock its jaws around the neck of the man wielding the hatchet. As the man tumbled to the ground in a spray of blood, Leliana took the opportunity to sneak up on the man she had engaged earlier. Winding her fingers into his hair in an almost sensual gesture, she yanked his head back so his bare throat was exposed. Placing her blade against it so a slight bead of blood trickled from the cut, Leliana exchanged a look with the elven Warden, and the man screamed loud enough to halt the fighting entirely. Not taking her eyes off the woman, Leliana yanked the man's head back further.

"What would you suggest I do with him?" She crooned. The elf ran a hand through her loose curls, staring intently at the captive. She shot a glance to the blonde man, then looked back at Leliana. Leveling one of her blades to the man's stomach, the elf leaned in close to his face.

"I want you to deliver a message, human. And if you can't deliver it back to me _verbatim_, your intestines are going to be somewhere they don't belong." She growled, her good eye flickering with unbridled hate.

"O-of course!" The man gasped against Leliana's dagger. The elf nodded at Leliana and the bard released her grip on his hair enough to keep him from slicing his throat open if he happened to breathe too hard.

"Good." The elf said, taking another step closer. "You tell Loghain that the Wardens know what he did. And we'll fight an army of Archdemons if that means his head will be raised on a pike in the near future."

The man gulped. Leliana, riding a wave of adrenaline, tapped the flat of her dagger against the man's neck.

"Now what did she say?" She purred into his ear. Her eyes were still locked on the elves, who licked her lips briefly before pressing her dirk into the soft spot under the man's stomach. Wincing, the man choked back a cry.

"The W-Wardens know what Log-Loghain did! They'll f-fight an army of Archd-demons to put his head on a pike s-soon." He stammered out. The Warden smiled, sheathing one of her blades. A chill fluttered down Leliana's spine as suddenly, her face went flat.

"Close enough. Now go." She growled. Leliana released the man, and he stumbled out of Dane's Refuge, his remaining lackeys following close behind. The Warden exhaled deeply, swiping her had across her mouth. Clearing her throat, the Warden gestured to the door.

"D'you mind having a word outside, shemlen?" She asked roughly. Leliana tried to not roll her eyes at the elf's interpretation of manners.

"As you wish." She said lightly, striding to the door.

"Alistair, could you and Ram clean this up? Morrigan, can you try to leave Alistair alone for five fucking minutes so he can do something without his damn head steaming? I'm getting concerned he might overheat." The elf rasped at her companions. A curt murmur of assent rose from the soldier and the mage. With a nod, the elf pushed past Leliana to step out into the brisk early evening. The Warden leaned against the planked exterior of the tavern, crossing her arms.

"You're good." She said gruffly. Leliana chuckled, sashaying a bit closer to the Warden.

"I've been told." She hummed. The Warden's gaze wandered up and down the woman's considerably taller form, but otherwise remained neutral.

"I'm Areth." She said, seeming almost bored with the whole exchange, which was strange given the Warden was the one who had summoned Leliana. "And you are…?"

"Leliana." The redhead said, extending a hand. Areth glanced down at it but made no move to shake it.

"A pleasure, I'm sure." The Warden said aloofly. "Anyway, you've got a knack for how to handle the dicier type of situation that my companions are either too stupid to grasp or too willing to murder to actually try, or are a dog and can't speak."

Leliana decided she'd play the aloof game as well, even if she was practically giddy at the invitation. The Wardens recruiting her meant she wouldn't need to appeal to them to let her come along, which in turn meant she wouldn't need to frighten them off with her talk of visions.

"If this is your proposition to get me to come along with you, then I am afraid it is rather weak." She muttered, feigning a pointed interest in her nailbeds. The elf ran both hands through her chestnut hair, sighing. Suddenly, she threw her arms up in an helpless gesture.

"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say to get you to come along, I've been a Grey Warden for two fucking days. I don't know why you would ever _want_ to come along, either. It's a borderline suicide mission, led by a bumbling blonde oaf and…" Areth groaned, shutting her eyes. "Well, me. But I'm loathe to ever give a _shemlen_ credit for anything and I'm telling you that we need someone like you, Leli- ah fuck, what was it?"

"Leli_ana_."

Areth sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Sounds real fuckin' Orlesian."

"It is." Leliana said, crossing her arms. She wasn't sure what to make of Areth. She was an intriguing little contradiction, equal parts fearless leader and hopelessly lost. Leliana was sure she could likely chalk it up to inexperience, and she was reluctant to follow someone so aggressive and at the same time, totally hapless.

"_You've a duty to the Maker, Leliana."_

The thought jarred her. Of course she did, and the opportunity had more or less just fallen into her lap. Areth's jaw was locked as she gazed intently at Leliana. Shaking her head, the Warden stood straight.

"You're a Chantry sister, I'm sure you've got a lot to do around here." Areth said, adjusting the scabbard that hung from her right hip. "We've got to be on our way."

Just as she began to turn away, Leliana grabbed the elf's elbow. Areth stiffened, but after a moment, turned to the redhead slowly, her right eye shining with both uncertainty and hope. At that moment, Leliana was certain her rightful place was with the Wardens, with this strange elf.

"I will come with you." Leliana said, her tone solemn. This was her Maker-given duty and she would see it to the end, damn it. Areth's eyes widened considerably.

"Didn't think I was that convincing."

Leliana shook her head. "You're not. But I have my reasons."

Areth shrugged. "If they've got you joining my team, I could care less what they are. Go gather your things and meet us by the north gate in half an hour." Pulling a skeleton key from the pocket of her trousers, she smiled absently at it. "I've got to go see about a Qunari."

Before Leliana could ask how in the Maker's name she'd managed to get the key to the Qunari prisoner's cage just outside of town or how in the Maker's name her moods could shift so damned quickly, the elf was sauntering off in the opposite direction, whistling idly.

"Be careful." Leliana called after her. If the elf had heard her at all, she gave no indication.

Leliana shook her head, trying to slow down her thoughts enough to figure out why exactly the Maker had to land her with _that_ elf.

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**If you guys have any suggestions or feedback, go ahead and drop me a review! I find them to be really helpful :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**This here's just a little fluff chapter before I get underway with the bulk of the story, and I'm also trying my hand at fleshing out a little of the party dynamics. Feedback, positive or negative, is adored. Enjoy!**

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"Alistair, what_ is_ this?" Areth asked her fellow Warden, prodding at the grayish lumps floating in her stew with a spoon. Alistair glanced up at her from his seat beside the cooking pot, then resumed stirring his creation over the fire.

"It's an old Templar recipe. The main ingredient is despair."

Areth wrinkled her nose. "Tastes like it."

"Well it's not_ done_ yet!"

"You've been taking long enough!"

Morrigan stood up, dumping the contents of her bowl back in the pot and successfully derailing their little spat. Alistair let out a tiny sound of indignation.

"Calm yourself, imbecile, I am merely going to gather some herbs I found today." The mage said irritably. "Hopefully, this meal may yet be salvaged."

"Why are you complaining? I didn't see _you_ volunteering to cook." Alistair grumbled, mostly to himself, as Morrigan bustled away. Areth forced down another mouthful.

"Do you really want her having sovereign authority over what she puts in our... food, I guess you could call it?" She asked. "She'd probably poison all of us just to kill _you_."

From across the fire, Leliana giggled slightly. Areth went back to prodding at the floating chunks in her stew.

"If it helps, I'll be watching to make sure she doesn't do anything sneaky or... or witchy to it." Alistair said, stirring more aggressively. "It's funny. I thought, with the darkspawn being a universal threat to all life, maybe we'd all be able to get along. I'd hoped we'd all join hands and dance 'round the maypole when it was all said and done."

"Please, the thought's enough to give me a brain tumor." Areth deadpanned.

Leliana placed her bowl in the pile of dirty dishes that had been steadily amassing during Alistair's attempt at dinner. The elf was mildly impressed to note that the woman had managed to down most of the food without retching it back up.

"You know, dancing around the maypole has always been one of my favorite Feastday activities." The redhead remarked. "The dancing, the singing, it's all quite wonderful."

Areth furrowed her brow at their new companion. "It sounds like absolute bollocks."

Leliana chortled. "Forgive me, but is it not custom for the elves of the Alienage to dance around the Vhenadahl during Feastday?"

Areth tried to control her surprise that Leliana knew a lick of anything about elven customs by scowling. "That's different."

"How is that different?"

"It's a _tree_, not a stupid pole."

Leliana pursed her lips, making a small noise at the back of her throat. The corners of her mouth twitched subtly. "I see, very different indeed."

At that moment, the newest addition to the Warden's travelling circus took a seat in front of the fire, followed by Ram. Sten, the Qunari Areth had freed from imprisonment in Lothering, hadn't said more than a few words since joining them a week ago. After much wheedling from Morrigan to at least free the strange man, Areth convinced the Revered Mother in Lothering that his penance would be much better served combating the Blight. Given the colorful language she had used to illustrate her point, she was surprised the old biddy hadn't thrown her out of the Chantry on the spot. It turned out that Sten was a useful warrior, despite his painful stoicism. Plus he took Ram out on nightly walks so Areth didn't have to. She wasn't sure what they did on those walks, but Ram always seemed happier afterward. The massive dog plopped down beside her and practically slapped her in the face with his tongue, licking her enthusiastically like he hadn't seen her in months.

"For fuck's sake, dog." She hissed, pushing his boulder-like head away from her.

"If you must insist on keeping that mangy beast, you ought to also consider teaching him manners." Morrigan said, rejoining the small group with a moderately sized and very fragrant pouch of herbs.

"He isn't mangy." Areth protested, handing the contents of her bowl off to the dog, who slurped it down with much more reservation than he normally showed towards food. Areth snorted, pointing at her dog. "He doesn't even like it and he licks his own _balls_. What does that tell you, Alistair?"

"Well thank the Maker Morrigan is back, the day is_ saved_." Alistair said sarcastically. Ignoring him, Morrigan set about adding pinches and dashes of various spices and herbs to the pot.

"Alistair, if you can find the faculties in your diminutive brain to do so, could you manage to stir the pot whilst I rectify your mess?" She quipped. Flushing, but without protest, Alistair acquiesced.

The camp fell silent, save for the symphony of crickets chirping in the trees. Areth adjusted her scarf, vowing to clean it while she was on dish duty after dinner. Even if it was a gift from an old shem woman, it was a nice little bauble and she wanted to keep it in at least respectable condition. Resting a hand on top of Ram's head, Areth's debilitated gaze meandered across her companions until it settled upon Leliana, as they had been doing rather often lately. She would never admit it out loud, but the elf was intrigued by the human woman in a way she couldn't quite place. Areth supposed she was rather pretty, for a human. Her red, chin-length hair looked incredibly silky, and her skin seemed smooth enough to be carved from marble. Her eyes, the color of the sky on a nice day, had the ability to shoot pure adrenaline through Areth's body. The Orlesian managed to scrounge up a worn set of leather armor that hugged her curves in a way that had given Areth pause a few times, and thankfully the ex-Chantry sister hadn't noticed. Or if she had, she mercifully avoided mentioning it. There was just something about the woman that captured Areth's usually-scattered attention. Perhaps it was curiosity as to how a lay sister of the Chantry learned how to fight like it was just a walk in the countryside. Or maybe it was the accent. The Orlesian accents Areth had heard around Denerim sounded totally ridiculous, but somehow Leliana's flowed smoothly, like warm honey. Or maybe it was simply the fact that she was nice to look at.

"If you do not close your jaw, Areth, you may just end up drowning the object of your fixations. And the rest of us, for that matter." Said Morrigan suddenly, sounding rather smug. Areth's jaw had barely been open at all. Only a little. Kind of. She snapped it shut and cast a furious glance in the mage's direction, pointedly avoiding eye contact with anyone else. Standing up, Areth took her scarf off.

"I'm gonna go try and wash this." She grumbled. As she began to stalk in the direction of the stream they were camped near, a low sound emitted from Sten.

"And these _bas_ wonder why the Qunari cut out the tongues of our mages."

Areth had no idea what the hell a bas was, but she could barely stifle her laugh at Sten's comment, despite the stinging humiliation she felt. Swinging her scarf, she was grateful for the Qunari's intervention, even if helping her save face wasn't his intention at all. He sure picked a damn fine time to finally say something, though. Areth decided she rather liked him.

A whimper from her left side told her that Ram was back to playing nursemaid.

"Oh? I thought you'd left me for Sten." She said, placing a hand on the dog's back as she tried to navigate the downward slope of the bank. Ram let out a tiny whine and nudged her thigh with all the force of a kitten. Areth was pretty sure she could make it down on her own, but she'd yet to get all that used to being half-blind. She wondered if she _ever_ would, but she'd managed to avoid dwelling on it too much since it happened. Thankfully, the party had settled close enough to the stream that the light from the fire illuminated her path enough to make the trek a little easier. As Areth made it to the bottom of the creekbed, she couldn't help but admire her surroundings. The remnants of summer's fireflies had settled there, bumbling about lazily through the air. Areth laughed as Ram snapped at one. Then a frog croaked from down the stream a ways and the dog was off like a bolt from a crossbow. He could have his fun splashing about, Areth knew he wouldn't stray out of earshot, and that made her feel a l_ot_ safer. Dropping to her knees, Areth dunked the scarf under the flow of the stream and hissed when she realized how cold it was. Swallowing thickly, she began to rub the scarf in the coarse sand under the water in a feeble attempt to get it clean.

"Areth?" Chimed a hushed voice from the top of the bank behind her. She recognized the voice instantly, but took her time turning. Ram was also officially the most inept watchdog in all of Thedas.

"Yes?" Areth said, mimicking the Orlesian's hesitant tone. She dropped the soaking scarf to the ground, where it landed with a heavy slap, and stood. Spitting into the creek, she crossed her arms as Leliana practically skipped down the steep bank with ease,and a brief but searing jealousy flared in her chest. In the distance Areth could hear Ram splashing and yipping away gleefully on his own.

"You were washing your scarf, no? The pretty blue one?" Leliana asked, reaching into the pocket of the simple but torturously well-fitting trousers she had taken to wearing around camp. Without waiting for a response, she pulled forth a rough-looking bar of soap. "This will probably help a bit more than sand."

Cocking an eyebrow at her redheaded companion, Areth allowed the woman to drop the bar of soap into her palms.

"You brought _soap_?"

Leliana wrinkled her nose. "Of course I brought soap. Why would I not?"

Areth turned the bar over in her hands a few times. She remembered, the soap they used back in the Alienage. It was usually just a ball of dried wax with small pebbles inside it. It mostly worked to rub off the thin layer of dirt and soot one acquired just by _looking_ at the Alienage. This, however, actually looked like soap. Smelled decent, too. Sort of like a certain redheaded Orlesian. Areth looked back up at Leliana.

"You brought _soap_. Just for cleaning _clothes_." She said again, slowly. Leliana looked at the elf strangely.

"Yes."

"I didn't even think there was soap just for cleaning clothes." Areth finally said, tossing the the up in the air and catching it. "You shemlen have the most frivolous shit, it's amazing."

Leliana took a seat on a large, flat stone that jutted over the water.

"_Oh by all means, make yourself comfortable."_ Areth thought sourly, kneeling by the water and scrubbing at the thick wool of the scarf with the soap._ "I certainly wasn't trying to avoid you at all, nooooooooo."_

"So." Leliana began. "How does an elf from Denerim's Alienage end up a member of the renowned Grey Wardens?"

Areth didn't look up from her task. "I'll tell you that when you tell me how a lay sister of the Chantry learns exactly how to stab a man right in the kidneys in one try."

Leliana sighed. "I suppose you could call my life before going to Lothering… colorful."

"And I suppose you could say the same for mine."

They were silent for a few minutes, and as time lapsed on the quiet grew more and more awkward until Leliana finally said something.

"How are you managing with your eye?" She asked hesitantly. For a moment, Areth felt the urge to tell Leliana to mind her own business rose in her throat like bile. Reminding herself to stay civil towards the people who knew where she slept, Areth bit her lip.

"Ever lose half of a major sense organ most depend on for basic survival?" She said, pulling her scarf out of the water and examining it. _Some_ of the stains had come out, but the worst were still there.

"No, I have not." Leliana said, getting up from her perch on the rock. She motioned for the scarf and Areth handed it over. "But it was my understanding that elves have truly exceptional hearing. Surely your pretty ears have helped you compensate a bit?"

The tips of said ears reddened slightly in the dark as Leliana set to washing the scarf much more aggressively than Areth had been.

"I guess that's sort of true." The elf conceded reluctantly, looking over Leliana's shoulder as she washed. "You think elf ears are pretty?"

Leliana glanced up briefly at the elf. "Of course. Where I am from, elven servants are admired for their grace and their exotic beauty, and long, tapered ears such as yours are highly valued."

_"And there it is."_

Areth let out a derisive snort. "So, we're kind of like exotic pets to you Orlesians?"

Leliana stood up immediately, panic weaving into her expression as she fumbled for words.

"I did not mean it like _that_! I simply meant to pay you a compliment, and I-" The redhead's words pinched off as she quickly pressed her lips into a thin line. "I am sorry, my words were not aptly chosen. You would think, as a bard, that wouldn't be a problem."

Areth's eyebrows shot up, forgetting to be suitably pissy for a moment. "You were a bard?"

She didn't know the intricacies of what being a bard meant, but she knew enough to recall that bards were typically highly-trained spies. Which would explain a great deal; the Orlesian's knack for murder in particular.

Leliana smiled sheepishly. "Perhaps I have let that slip so that you might forgive me being such a terrible buffoon."

Areth examined the scarf in Leliana's hand and nodded, slowly allowing herself to calm down. "I didn't know bards were trained in getting stains out."

Laughing nervously, the redhead wrung the water out of the scarf. "Given the nature of my job, I would have ruined too many articles of clothing if I didn't know how."

The pair stood in silence for a few moments. Leliana shifted from foot to foot, toying with the damp scarf in her hands. To Areth, something about the woman had shifted. The elf was fairly certain that Leliana wasn't a spy for Loghain, given how much the guy hated Orlais, but there was now a certain danger to her that set Areth on edge. Although, to be fair, she wasn't exactly at ease around _any_ of their other companions so this revelation didn't shock her nearly as much as Leliana seemed to be anticipating. Passing a hand through her hair, the Warden shrugged.

"I guess we're even, shem." She said impassively. Then, she stared sharply at Leliana. "But you'd do well to pick your words more carefully."

Leliana looked a bit crestfallen. "You are right." She intoned softly. "You should know that I don't see you as an… exotic pet. Or any elf for that matter."

"Then what _did_ you mean?" Areth asked pointedly. "Kinda lost your point in the casual racism."

Leliana went back to wringing the scarf in her hands, chewing at her lip.

"I simply meant to compliment your ears." She said frankly. Taking the scarf from the bard's hands, Areth folded it up.

"Well, thanks I guess." She said, rubbing the tip of her ear. "I always thought they were a little too big."

Leliana smiled hesitantly. "They suit you. And they sound like they've been helpful."

"I guess living with them has made me kind of immune to everything I can hear, so I don't pay attention to them." Areth sighed. "I mean, if I paid attention to everything I heard, I'd go batshit insane."

"I suppose it could become a bit overwhelming, no?"

"A bit, yeah." Areth said with a little chuckle. "D'you think Alistair's crap-in-a-bowl is edible yet?"

Leliana nodded. "It almost smelled like vomit-in-a-bowl when I got up, so there's been improvement."

Areth cracked a tiny smile. "Good, I'm fucking_ starving_."

Areth began to whistle in Ram's direction when she felt a hand slowly come to rest on her left elbow. She jerked about to come practically nose-to-nose with the Orlesian bard.

"Let him splash about a bit more; it sounds as if he is having fun." Leliana said softly. Areth's ears twitched, like they were trying frantically to savor the sound of the other woman's voice as long as possible. A happy bark that echoed from down the creek ended the brief moment. Areth raised her thin shoulders noncommittally.

"Sure."

"I can help you up the bank. It_ is_ rather steep, and it's dark out tonight." The other woman said, offering her elbow. Areth rolled her eyes.

"I _think_ I can manage." She scoffed, making her way up the bank, and then promptly stumbled over a rock she hadn't noticed on the left, scraping her palms on the gravelly embankment as she scrambled to catch herself. Letting out a rather colorful string of obscenities, she pushed to her feet and wiped the blood and dirt on her hands off on her pants. Picking the scarf up, she fussed over it momentarily before she heard Leliana cough conspicuously behind her.

"You were saying?"

Areth silently grabbed on to Leliana's elbow and allowed the bard to guide her up the slope. Oddly enough, she felt rather comfortable touching the bard. As if it was entirely natural.

As soon as the pair were on level ground, Areth dropped her hand from Leliana's elbow. She found herself missing the contact almost instantly. Glancing briefly at the human, Areth attempted a smile that looked more like a grimace.

"Thank you." She managed out stiffly. One side of Leliana's lips curled up in a smirk.

"You make it sound so painful."

"It _is_." Areth said, staring at her muddy boots. Leliana made a noise in the back of her throat. Areth glanced up at her before continuing. "When you live your whole life hating humans, and then suddenly find yourself dependent on them, I think you'd get it."

"Well." Leliana began, her eyes dancing mischievously. "Maybe if you just keep staring at me like you_ have_ been, you'll see we aren't all so horrible."

Before Areth could respond, the Orlesian was walking back to the fire, hips swaying more than usual.

_"Fucking Maker, she noticed."_ Areth thought miserably.

Groaning, the elf buried her face in her still-damp scarf, trying to put out the burning in her face.

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**Thanks for reading! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Ahhhhhhh! Sorry about the delay, I got Pokemon X and pretty much turned into a hermit for a while there. Definitely won't be as long of a wait for the next update :) Enjoy!**

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For the umpteenth time since it started raining, Areth's boot was firmly lodged in mud. When she'd purchased the boots at Ostagar, she told herself she would do her best to keep them in at least somewhat presentable condition. Just a couple weeks later and the leather was already wrinkled, cracked, and caked with filth. With a mighty grunt, she pulled her foot free with a cringe-worthy squelch. She pushed her sopping wet hair out of her eyes and looked up into the sky. A hawk was bearing down towards them, and Areth thought it looked extremely irate. As much as a bird could, at least.

"See anything, Morrigan?"

Just as the hawk was about to plummet into the ground, it morphed almost seamlessly into the shape of a woman. Morrigan's hair was plastered to her face, and she was shivering slightly.

"'Tis not far from here. This village, however, seems rather void of activity." Morrigan chattered.

"Is it odd to you that people aren't out in this weather? Because _you_ certainly seem to be enjoying it." Areth replied flatly.

"Truly, what a shame that it was not your _tongue_ that was incapacitated by an ogre."

Areth lifted a hand impassively. "Just turn into a bear or something else that'll keep warm. Or buy warmer clothes. Or keep being miserable, whatever strikes your fancy."

Morrigan's piercing golden eyes glared sharply at the elf before she was trotting down the road as a great wolf. From her side, Ram barked excitedly and tore off after the shapeshifter. He must have been glad to have someone of his stature to play with, much to wolf-Morrigan's chagrin. With a slight smile, Areth watched the Mabari chase the black wolf through the mud. The clank of armor behind her alerted her to Alistair's approach.

"Where d'you think her clothes go when she does that?" The man asked the elf blankly. Areth stared at him incredulously.

"Morrigan can turn into any animal at her whim and you're wondering about the mechanics of where her clothes go?"

Alistair nodded. "It's a valid question."

It was, but Areth would sooner pull her own teeth than admit she'd been wondering the same thing.

"I have an answer; it's_ magic_. It doesn't make any sodding sense anyway."

To her surprise, Alistair cracked a smile.

"I suppose I can't argue with that." He said. "Years of training as a Templar and they never really explained how magic works, just that it's_ super evil _and we have to control it."

"Really? That seems a little ignorant." Areth remarked. Alistair grunted.

"It is. I can't decide if they're right or wrong about it, though." He said. "Sure, all it takes is one crazy mage and _poof_, whole city's on fire and crawling with demons, but they aren't all like that. One bad apple spoils the whole bunch for the Templars, though. And that's why things are how they are."

Areth spat into the mud. "I can understand that, though. A few dogs bite someone here and there, that just happens. They keep biting, and they muzzle the whole bunch. It's safer that way."

"Yes, but you don't think that's unfair to the dogs that haven't ever bitten anyone?"

Areth shrugged. "I see it like this; someone could make the argument to me that humans aren't dangerous monsters, but I've seen plenty that are. So naturally, until they prove themselves otherwise, I'll treat all humans like the worst of them. Only then am I comfortable with taking the muzzles off."

"Well that _really_ isn't fair."

"Living in an Alienage doesn't lend well to optimism about humans, Alistair." Areth said sharply, regarding the man with her good eye. Alistair's eyes were clouded with thought and his jaw was taut.

"I guess I wouldn't know, would I?" He finally said. Areth shook her head.

"You really wouldn't."

They trudged on silently for a while, the only sound the patter of the rain against the trees and the splashes of their boots in the mud. Behind her, Leliana chattered away at Sten, who wasn't giving any indication that he was listening to the bard at all. The elf cast a glance over her shoulder at the two, and nearly tripped over her own feet when she saw Leliana was gazing at her. The redhead giggled softly as Areth huffed and tried to hide her blush.

"You seem to be getting along just fine with Leliana." Alistair said, almost sounding hurt. Areth kicked at a thick clump of mud and scowled when most of it just ended up on her boot.

"Believe me, we're not friends." Areth growled. "Forced acquaintances, more than anything else."

"And that's why you two are always looking at each other, then?" Alistair said, his voice taking a sly edge.

"We are _not_ always looking at each other." Areth protested, tucking her mouth and nose under her damp scarf. She took a deep breath in. Since Leliana had washed the scarf, it smelled really good, which was a nice relief from the dank stench of mud and rotting leaves. Areth was not a nature person.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you think she's rather pretty." Alistair continued, smiling. Areth rolled her eyes.

"And if _I_ didn't know any better, I'd say you'd like to slip it to Morrigan."

Even though she couldn't see Alistair from where he was on her left, she knew he was probably blushing a fluorescent red.

"_Ah huh_, that's what I thought."

"That is absolutely _not_ true, why would you even think that?" Alistair sputtered. "She's got an absolutely repugnant personality!"

Areth cocked an eyebrow at her companion. "I don't think it was her _personality_ you were staring at yesterday."

She didn't think it was possible, but Alistair turned even redder until he was pushing purple.

"Oh, stop antagonizing Alistair." Cooed a soft voice that made her ears quiver slightly. Leliana paced herself so she was in-step with Areth on her right. "He just has a little schoolboy infatuation, that's all."

"_Schoolboy infatuation_?" Alistair repeated, now staring incredulously at Leliana, who nodded matter-of-factly.

"Of course. I would see it in the schoolyards in Orlais whenever I would walk by. Little boys and girls bickering and pulling each other's hair, pushing each other about." She said airily. "All because they liked each other but didn't want to admit it."

Areth nodded. "Exactly my point."

Alistair was practically gagging. "No, absolutely not. _If_ I was _ever _looking at Morrigan, it's because she's an important part of our mission and I was simply… contemplating her role among the group, that's all."

Areth snorted. "I'm sure you were contemplating _something_ pretty heavily, but hey. She's pretty enough, if you're into… erm… whatever you'd call her."

"Swamp witch!" Leliana chimed in. Areth clapped her hands.

"Swamp witch, there you go! She's a really pretty swamp witch!"

Alistair's shoulders slumped forward in defeat and his pace slowed.

"I'll take rear guard."

"If you're going to guard anyone's rear, it should be Morrig- _ow_!" Areth was cut off by a sharp elbow between her ribs.

"I think we have tormented the poor man enough, no?" Leliana said, splashing through the mud with a tiny smile of amusement. Areth rolled her eyes.

"He's too easy of a target, and I get bored just walking all the time."

Lelianna laughed, running a hand through her fiery hair. Where most would look like a drowned rat in this weather, (and Areth definitely did), Leliana somehow managed to make soggy, miserable, and covered in mud look good. The bard flashed her brilliant blue eyes at the Warden.

"Well, unless you're planning on teasing _me_ mercilessly, I would be willing to keep you company." She offered. Areth's eyebrows raised slightly.

"Sure." She said skeptically. Leliana looked rather pleased. Areth rubbed her bad eye, waiting for her to say something.

"What is your favorite color?" The bard asked. Areth barked out a laugh.

"Why would you even want to know that?"

"Well, we will be spending a lot of time together." Leliana replied simply. "Doesn't it make sense that we get to know each other?"

"I guess, but what does my favorite color have to do with that?"

"I'm just curious."

The color that immediately came to Areth's mind was blue. Light blue. The kind of blue that came after a day of heavy rain and the clouds had finally cleared. The closest thing she'd seen to that lately were Leliana's eyes. So she wasn't going to say blue.

"Green?" She ventured. Leliana nodded.

"I rather like green, too. All kinds of green. Like your eyes. They are both different shades of green, but I think that makes them even more lovely."

Areth felt the tips of her ears redden. "Oh… well. Thank you."

From the few glimpses she caught of herself since she lost sight, Areth thought she looked odd and kind of malformed. But Leliana sounded so sincere, she felt a wave of confidence surge in her chest. Still, she couldn't bring herself to say anything nice back, so they continued on in silence for a few minutes. Then, Areth thought of a question.

"Why did you agree to come with us so easily?"

She caught a flicker of something unfamiliar in Leliana's eyes. If she didn't think the bard was ever _anything_ but enthusiastic, she'd say it was fear. It an instant, it was gone.

"Why do you ask?" Leliana countered. Areth rolled her eyes.

"Because I'm _curious_." The elf said smugly. Leliana pursed her lips thoughtfully as they plodded onward.

"I'm not sure I understand why, myself." The bard said hesitantly. "But I think I would be more use out here, actually _fighting_ the Blight, than joining the rank-and-file of the relief efforts."

"But that's all really important too, right?" Areth probed. Leliana nodded quickly.

"Of course! There are many paths I could have taken to combat this Blight, all of which are equally important. Taking care of those displaced by it being one of them. However, I felt I had to choose which path I could be most… successful, I suppose, in. It was just a question of where I thought I could best allocate my efforts and joining your mission seemed like the best use of whatever time there is left." Leliana's wide eyes turned to Areth. "Does that make sense?"

Before Areth could respond, a guttural boom of a voice came from behind them, sending Areth about a foot straight up in the air.

"It makes perfect sense." Sten said in his usual growl.

"D'you think it possible that you could avoid sneaking up on us to interject your point, Sten?" Areth mumbled irritably.

"It is not possible to sneak with all this mud about, Warden." The qunari said tonelessly. "That you did not hear my approach bodes poorly for our chances of survival."

Areth grit her teeth. First time she ever really interacted with Sten and he was criticizing her. Pressing her lips into a thin line, Areth blew a long breath from her nostrils.

"Noted, Sten. You were saying?"

The qunari continued, his voice impassive as ever.

"To be able to recognize one's talents without any direction or designation and resolve to follow them is an admirable trait to find in one outside of the Qun."

Leliana smiled up at the giant. "Thank you, but is that not how things are all over the place? People just want to do the things they are best at."

The large man grunted. "For some, this is true. However, there are even more who insist on following a path for which they are not suited, simply to soothe their ego."

The qunari gestured to Areth.

"Take the Grey Wardens, for instance. They do not seem to choose their recruits based on merit, but rather misguided notions about willpower, or pure ferocity, that I cannot understand."

"Surely Areth has proven herself to be capable enough. Being recruited as a Warden may be simple enough, but I have heard the process of actually becoming a Warden is quite difficult, although I do not know the intricacies of the process." Leliana replied, her gaze leaping back and forth between the qunari and the elf. Sten shook his head.

"Clearly not difficult _enough_."

Areth grit her teeth, ignoring the cautionary look Leliana shot at her. Stepping neatly in front of Sten, she glared up at him. The qunari halted, gazing down at her with mild disgust. He was nearly two feet taller than her, but Areth couldn't bring herself to feel anything but seething anger at him.

"If what you said is true at all, then I'd like to know how it is the _meritless_ Grey Wardens have defeated four Blights while you don't hear the Qunari doing much of anything but _dying_ in droves while _we_ do all the heavy lifting." She spat. Sten continued to stare at her, his expression now clouded and inscrutable. Taking a deep breath, Areth steeled herself to continue.

"And even if I am entirely fucking unqualified for anything but dying like a rat in an Alienage, _I'm_ the one who kept you from rotting in that cage and _I'm_ the one who ended up in charge of this absolutely batshit quest of ours. So yes, maybe I am a lousy choice for a Grey Warden, but do you see any other Wardens around here besides Alistair?" She hissed, gesturing towards said man, who had stopped a few feet away to watch the spectacle. "I'm sure his leadership would settle _just fine_ with you, wouldn't it? No, of course it fucking wouldn't. I don't think you'd take orders from anyone that doesn't look like you to begin with, anyway!"

"I'm really not fit for it." Alistair tossed in belatedly. Areth cocked her head towards him, not taking her eyes off Sten.

"There you have it. Neither of us were given a choice in the matter, but here we are."

The elf jabbed a finger against the center of Sten's breastplate. "You have a problem with the way we're doing this? Fine, _then start fucking walking_."

Sten remained entirely still, his violet eyes unblinking. Areth noticed Leliana had slunk around to her left, probably readying to guard her if things boiled to a head. But they wouldn't. Sten nodded slowly, his voice rumbling from deep inside his chest.

"Very well."

Then the qunari warrior stepped around Areth and continued on, slopping through the mud with unsettling poise. After he was a far enough distance away, Alistair coughed obtrusively.

"In case you haven't noticed, you're rather small." He said. "Perhaps picking fights with the largest person we know isn't a great idea."

Areth spat into the mud and swiped the back of her hand across her nose.

"It's fine."

It really wasn't fine. It actually astonished her how furious she felt at Sten's disparagement of the Wardens. She didn't think she felt any allegiance to them, but the qunari's words tweaked at a nerve that she didn't even know was there. Maybe it was because fighting the Blight, all the Wardens did, was really all she had left. Maybe so much had been taken from her that she was desperate to cling to whatever she had left. She tried to beat back the scowl that warped her lips into a careful mask of indifference.

"Regardless, you definitely won that little spat." Alistair said, keeping his tone light. "And you managed to choke out more than a few syllables out of Sten, so I suppose that's a plus."

Areth coughed out a laugh. "I wish he'd just kept to grunting."

Leliana laughed now. "That would have been quite the compelling debate."

Just as Areth opened her mouth to reply, she felt a sharp pain suddenly jab at her temples. Hissing, she grabbed at her head.

"What's happening?" Leliana asked her, worry permeating her tone.

"Darkspawn." Alistair answered for her, unsheathing his sword and shield. "Wardens get headaches when they're about. She just hasn't gotten used to it yet."

Leliana was already fitting an arrow to the bow they'd picked up from some strange dwarven merchants a few days prior.

"Will she be able to fight like this?"

Shaking her head, as if she was trying to shake the headache away, Areth drew her blades.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? It doesn't feel like it's too many…" Alistair trailed off, looking at Areth expectantly.

"I'm fine." Areth growled. Bringing her fingers to her lips, she let out a shrill whistle. From where he was still bothering Morrigan, Ram snapped to attention and barreled toward her at full speed. Sten turned, and upon noticing that everyone else's weapons were drawn, and drew his own.

"Where are they?" Areth asked Alistair. The ex-Templar's brow furrowed.

"I can't quite pinpoint them, but they're a not too far to the east. I don't think they know we're here."

Areth concentrated on the buzzing in her own head. It was faint, but relatively calm.

"We could always just pass them by." Leliana suggested, her eyes glued to Areth. The elf glanced at her, briefly stunned by the concern in the bard's eyes. She shook her head.

"They're too close to Redcliffe. Even if it's just a scouting band, I don't like the idea of them getting anywhere at the same time as us. We have to stay ahead of them."

There was a flicker of hesitation in Leliana's eyes that dissipated almost instantly. The redhead nodded, experimentally stretching her bowstring a few times. Taking a deep breath, Areth glanced at Alistair.

"You're better at this than me, lead on."

The man's jaw tightened, probably out of sheer nerves at actually being responsible for leading, but he turned towards a thick copse of trees to their right and began sloshing across the soggy terrain.

Areth followed Alistair closely, with Ram hot on her heels. Though Leliana was still a good few paces behind her, the elf could practically feel the woman's gaze boring into her head. Sten brought up the rear, and despite their little spat, Areth felt a little better knowing the giant was guarding their asses. From the right, wolf-Morrigan loped up to the small group. Mud caked her otherwise glossy black pelt, but her gleaming eyes shone with ferocity and knowing anticipation.

"Smelled them, did you?" Areth asked wryly. A short growl tumbled from Morrigan's throat. Areth nodded.

"Guard the perimeter, make sure none of them get away." She instructed. "The faster we cover land than them, the better."

Morrigan's ochre eyes gazed at her for a moment, before the wolf growled once again and darted up to the front of the group. Leliana laughed softly, taking Morrigan's place beside Areth.

"I think she fancies herself to be the alpha, no?"

The Warden snorted. "If having a healthy ego keeps her out of my hair, then I can live with it."

"Beautiful _and_ wise, I see." Leliana remarked playfully. And even though she was certain the bard was just teasing her, Areth felt the tips of her ears burn regardless.

"Just some of my many amazing qualities." She replied loftily, shooting a quick glance at her redheaded companion. There was a gleam in Leliana's eyes that stirred something in the pit of her stomach.

"I bet." The bard more or less purred. Areth flashed a nervous smile and decided that now was a good time for them to stop talking. Their encroaching proximity to the darkspawn wasn't exactly the main reason for that.

Alistair had been right, earlier. Areth _had_ been trying to keep her steadily increasing attraction toward Leliana under wraps, but she still couldn't find a way to keep her heart from leaping out of her chest at the sound of her voice. She'd have to figure out the trick to it because there was no way a relationship with a shemlen woman whose past was probably littered with corpses would end well. Plus, Leliana was probably just teasing her for the hell of it.

Alistair's pace had dithered to a slow trod, when he turned around and beckoned for her. Glad to have an excuse to talk about anything else, particularly killing things, she all but bounded up to him. The shemlen's blue eyes were somber as he contemplated the thick cluster of trees before them.

"They're in there. As you can probably tell, they're all calm as can be. Which means they don't know we're here." He said, almost in a whisper.

"So we ambush them."

Alistair rubbed at his chin stubble, still peering at the forest.

"I think we should send Morrigan in first, to drive them away from the trees."

Areth chewed on the inside of her lip. "Just have her scare the fuckers out of the woods, then spring an attack on them when they run out?"

Alistair nodded. "That's the idea."

Shrugging, Areth examined her blades. "Best case, we get darkspawn away from Redcliffe. Worst case, it backfires and we lose Morrigan. Sounds fine to me."

The black wolf pacing in front of them snarled. Areth rolled her eyes.

"_The elf said in jest_." She added. "So scratch my old strategy, does this one sound alright with you, Morrigan?"

Though her eyes suggested she was thoroughly not thrilled with the plan, she bobbed her head and bolted off into the cluster of trees soundlessly.

"And now we wait." Alistair sighed, briefly giving his weapons a once-over. "You're sure you'll be alright?"

Areth grunted. "I've got to get used to this eye somehow. Trial by fire and all that."

"I don't think there will be terribly much fire, just a lot of pointy, shiny objects." Alistair said. "For what it's worth, I'd rather you not end up as an elf-shaped pincushion."

Areth allowed herself a tiny laugh. "This pincushion fights back."

Suddenly, a thunderous boom rocked the earth beneath their feet. A thick pillar of smoke rose from the forest, but it wasn't coming from fire, as far as Areth could tell. Morrigan must have been trying to spare the trees. The throbbing in Areth's temples increased, and what had been an idle murmur in her mind had risen to a frenzied chatter. Glancing at Alistair, she noticed the veins in his jaw straining, his face flushed. Despite looking thoroughly rattled in the face, his stance indicated the exact opposite. He had dipped into a stance that he held with a taut, controlled poise that was entirely out of character. The only thing that wasn't entirely stationary was his blade, the tip swaying slowly side to side. He was keeping his blade fluid. It was something her mother had once told her. In battle, a sword is an extension of your own body. So keep your base strong, but your blade alive. Sound enough wisdom, but when Areth had picked up a two bladed style, she preferred to stay light on her feet. So she dipped into a low stance, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

A chorus of blood-curdling shrieks sent her heart rocketing into her throat, and the sharp creak of a bow being drawn sounded behind her. Sten was mumbling something in his native language under his breath, looking an absolute terror. As the darkspawn broke free of the woods, Areth knew they were coming right for them. She quickly counted five genlocks, the smaller ones, accompanied by four hurlocks, the ones that were supposed to be human-shaped she supposed. She'd gotten over their grisly appearance after fighting a literal army of them at Ostagar, but their acrid stench threatened to make her gag. Spitting into the mud, she threw a look Alistair's way. With a nod, the man tore off toward the approaching monsters. Something whistled sharply past her head, and buried itself into the skull of one of the genlocks, dropping it instantly.

Spurred into action, Areth made sure Ram was close beside her before following Alistair, blades poised. Clanking noisily in his armor, Sten charged past her to cleave a hurlock nearly in two. Twisting neatly around him, Areth drove her blade through the eye socket of a genlock, twisting the blade as she pulled it from the skull. Ram had a firm grip on a hurlock's leg, tugging the creature down into the mud and easily collapsing its skull between his massive jaws. For a moment, Areth felt fear pang through her every limb before she remembered her dog was smart enough to not swallow any of the blood. Flicking her blades in her hand, she whirled to meet the strike of a genlock sword. The creature shrieked in surprise as she forced its blade down, flicked it to the side, then slashed a gaping hole across its throat. Barely a moment later, an arrow buried itself in the already-dead creature's neck.

"_She's trying to protect me."_ Areth thought, bewildered. Without warning, a brunt force from her left side sent her flying. She tried to twist midair to prepare to meet her assailant, a hurlock wielding a rough shield, after she fell, but Alistair was already returning the favor. Landing on her hip in the mud, Areth hissed as she scrambled for her weapons in the mire. But the last blow of the battle was already being made by Alistair, who plunged his sword through the chest of the hurlock that had knocked her over. With a wet, sucking sound, Alistair pulled his blade free from the twitching creature.

"With all the fuss about pincushions, I believe I forgot to remind you to stay clear of charging darkspawn." The blonde man said, offering his hand. Ignoring it, Areth pushed to her feet, shaking the mud from her daggers.

"Caught me on my bad side, that's all." She said gruffly. She was a little sore, but that was about it. Nothing to worry over. A warm hand was suddenly gently squeezing and probing up and down her arm. Areth rolled her eyes.

"Leliana, I'm fine." She said, letting her tone indicate her thorough irritation. The bard clucked at her.

"You are going to have some rather ugly bruises, but other than that, yes you are." The woman remarked, pursing her lips. "You must be more careful."

"You mean I shouldn't let darkspawn treat me like a punching dummy?" Areth gasped in mock surprise. "Well if I had known_ that_…"

Leliana threw her a pointed look.

"You _know_ what I mean."

Areth scowled, then deflated.

"If it makes you feel better, fine." She conceded. "But I don't need you playing nursemaid every time I fall over."

Leliana cocked an eyebrow and prodded Areth's hip sharply. The elf yelped in surprise at how much that actually hurt. She glared accusatorily at the bard, who smiled disarmingly back.

"Are you so sure about that?"

Areth sheathed her blades, flinching as she tried to run her hands through her tangled hair only to find her range of motion was no longer what it should be. Holding her left arm out toward the redhead, Areth could barely manage to grind the next words out from between her teeth.

"Leliana, could you maybe take care of that?"

The bard practically beamed at her as she ran her fingers experimentally down Areth's arm.

"I thought you'd never ask."

As Leliana led the elf over toward her pack to bandage up her arm, Areth paused to wonder exactly _when_ Alistair had left the conversation.

* * *

**As usual, reviews are adored. Until next time!**


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